


Spindle Puppets

by arnediadglanduath



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin is erratic, Angst, Dark-Lightside continuum, Drug use/abuse, Enormous Psychological Warfare, Everyone Has Issues, Evil Terrible OCs, Friends to Obligatory Sex to Terrible Self Deprication to Lovers, Fuck Or Die, It never works that way...does it?, M/M, Obi-Wan Needs to Chill Out, Offspring of The Daughter, Possibly Painstaking Attention to Erroneous Detail, Seriously Fucked up OCs, Weird Forcebonds, dubcon, this was supposed to be a oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 67,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arnediadglanduath/pseuds/arnediadglanduath
Summary: Obi-Wan and Anakin are sent to Corellia under instruction from both the Council and the Senate to apprehend a dangerous narcotics dealer. Under the guise of interested buyers, both men understand that one of them must be administered the drug in order to gain the seller's trust. When their mission begins to fall apart at the seams almost right from the start, they plow on into an uncertain culmination of events. Will the Galaxy's two heroes come out with their sanity intact? Even more importantly, will they be able to accept their feelings for each other under the weight of such terrible circumstances....or will the madness and pressure of the path ahead drive them completely and utterly insane?





	1. Ugly Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes** : The fuck or die concept is-obviously-somewhat overused...as is the concept of addiction. However, I do intend to take this on a spin that might prove somewhat different. This was supposed to be a oneshot but we all know that it _never_ becomes a oneshot when you want it to. I want to emphasize that this may or may not have horror themes and will probably focus on psychological issues...so... **trigger warning**. 
> 
> I'm going to post the next few chapters over the course of several days just to test the reception...as this is a somewhat stale concept and I don't technically know how well it will be received.
> 
>  **Major Note:** Don't do drugs. Drugs do not equate love. The characters in this story are being forcibly given narcotics. This is in no way an attempt to glamorize addiction. If you or someone you know suffers from drug dependency, I encourage you to reach out and talk to someone who cares and/or seek help from your local support groups and services.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [ ](http://s1380.photobucket.com/user/Arnediadglanduath/media/final_zpsagjmr9td.jpg.html)  
> 

Anakin Skywalker was a magnet for bad karma. 

Obi-Wan had decided this when he was twelve and fell off a speeder into a shipping freighter full of lothkittens. This would have been fine, but Anakin was dreadfully allergic to them...by the time they’d pulled him out he resembled a plague victim. It took him a week to recover and he refused to touch anything that remotely resembled a feline for the rest of his life. 

A few months later he was fiddling with the remnants of an old star speeder and blew up an entire row of transport shuttles. Again, this would have been fine-(as fine as damage to Temple property usually was)- but he ended up catching his tunic on fire and melting a grid-work pattern of the cheap fabric into his skin just below the shoulder blade. Third degree burns excused him from a Council lecture, but it didn't stop him from being ridiculously careless. 

A year more and he'd managed to tickle an elderly Convoree into partial madness...necessitating a hasty rescue from Obi-Wan and a harsh scolding from the owner. It wasn't that Anakin was unduly stupid...he couldn't be further from it. No, Anakin was just careless and difficult and curious in a way that would put most Younglings to shame. 

It wasn't his fault, really. Anakin had remained on the same planet, in the same city for the better part of nine years. His world before joining the Order spanned little more than a few miles...and that was if he was lucky enough to escape Watto’s junk shop for an hour or two to watch a podrace. Once introduced to the true vastness of the Galaxy, his curiosity was insatiable, and Obi-Wan couldn't resent him for it. 

The first time Anakin had seen a Zillo Beast he'd screamed and then thrown up all over Obi-Wan’s cloak. This was-of course-not appropriate behavior for an undercover mission; but it _was_ appropriate for a ten year old who had just seen a three-hundred foot tall ‘monster’ crawl it's way past their speeder in the dead of night. Obi-Wan resignedly cleaned up and reminded Anakin that he was going to see a lot worse during his time as a Jedi. 

Now, Anakin would probably go head-to-head with a Zillo Beast and come out with nary a scratch, but Obi-Wan kept his memories of Anakin’s childhood fragility in the back of his mind. It was comforting to remember that the man who had just electrocuted four dozen droidekas used to cower in fear at the sight of a Rancor.

At some point, Anakin had overcome his fear and channeled it into his ferocity on the battlefield. Obi-Wan wasn't sure yet if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but he enjoyed being able to sleep in his bed naked without fear that a tiny blond ruffian would crawl under the covers and ask him to sing a Stewjonian lullaby. 

He'd first noticed the change when Anakin was thirteen and they were facing off against a ten-foot asteroid mammoth hell-bent on eating them for lunch. Obi-Wan had drawn his lightsaber and prepared for the usual bout of hysterical screaming, but none came. Anakin walked calmly in front of him and closed his eyes...moments later they were covered in green blood and the mammoth was nowhere to be seen. 

He'd chalked it up to dumb luck. You couldn't Force-explode massive alien creatures and fail to suffer some kind of negative aftershock, but Anakin did it again on their next mission; this time to a significantly smaller species that he evidently found mildly annoying. Obi-Wan reprimanded him for lack of self-control, reported the incident to the Council, and went to wash the guts off in the shower. 

That was really the gist of it. Anakin was stupidly powerful….so powerful, Obi-Wan sometimes didn't know what to _do_ with him. And once his padawan had discovered what he could accomplish, it was like trying to stop a podracer bearing down the strip at full speed. 

By the time he was fourteen, the only thing stopping him from being a blazing ball of mindless power was his insatiable curiosity. It was the one thing he retained from his childhood, and Obi-Wan stopped being annoyed by it when he realized it was probably the single factor keeping Anakin from becoming a killing machine. It didn't help that he was charming and good-looking either. Too often he found himself swayed by a roguish grin or a flattering entreaty. Anakin was incomprehensibly good at being surly, but when he used his charm it was _terrifying._

With his newfound power came a sudden drop in his insatiable curiosity. His focus was suddenly _all power_ and it was frankly heartbreaking. At some point, Obi-Wan couldn't pinpoint exactly when, his padawan had lost interest in the world around him. His vision became incurably passionate and ambitious, and he didn't know how to reach him anymore. 

When they'd been assigned to aid Senator Amidala, Obi-Wan felt sincerely sorry for her. He was absolutely sure that his padawan’s single-minded intensity would have her falling at his feet. He dreaded the day he'd feel the explosion of passion in their Training Bond that indicated that Anakin had completed his conquest and brought the former Queen of Naboo to his bed. 

When that time never came, he was confused, but relieved. He assumed that Padme was just as smart about romantic dalliances as she was in politics. So it came as a surprise when Padme comme;d him late at night some time after the battle of Geonosis and called him a ‘blind idiot’ who ‘should be grateful for what he's been given.’ He blinked at the comm for a while before asking if Anakin had done something untoward. She'd laughed bitterly and said something along the lines of _‘if only I were so lucky’_ and proceeded to drop the call. Obi-Wan had poured himself a stiff drink and stared out the window for an hour before going to bed. 

After that, Anakin changed. 

Obi-Wan first noticed it during the Clone Wars when seven Stormtroopers bowled him over on their way out of the cafeteria and Anakin didn't explode into a blind rage. A year previously, at least one person would have been sent to the medbay with broken ribs. Instead, his now former-padawan chuckled and hiked himself back up to continue on to wherever he was going. 

Around the same time, Obi-Wan noted that Anakin was getting careless again. It only became a real problem when he volunteered to go on a solo mission to a planet inhabited by large sentient snails. He'd woken up in the middle of the night to a holocomm of a very slimy Anakin confessing that he'd eaten some of the local food and appeared to be secreting glycoprotein. It took about a week to put him back to normal and Obi-Wan never looked at a slug the same way ever again. 

About half a year into the Clone Wars, Anakin started hanging around him in longer and increasingly frequent time intervals. During his stint as a padawan, they'd spent so much time bickering that the Council had immediately separated them after the young man was Knighted so they could give each other some space. 

Now, it was rare for Obi-Wan to come back to their shared quarters and not find Anakin setting the table for dinner or putting a movie on for them to watch. He'd long ago convinced himself of the fact that while they might be comrades-in-arms, they would never be close...but it would seem he was wrong. In truth, he didn't mind the company. His tutelage under Qui-Gon had taken him away from his peers, and as a result he'd never formed any deep friendships. 

Luminara stopped by for lunch every so often, Plo Koon liked to have a chat with him on the odd day and he worked well with his fellow Jedi in the field, but it was a well-known fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi was dreadfully boring. He'd never really minded it. Less companionable closeness meant more time to focus on his duties, but there were times when he got lonely. Now however, Anakin seemed dreadfully determined to remedy that, and he couldn't say he minded the companionship. 

Having Anakin around was rather like having a friend. 

On missions, they were able to cover more ground and share Intel, compromising in tough situations by combining ideals. The 501st was soon the most accomplished squadron in the fleet, and Obi-Wan allowed himself a small amount of satisfaction over the fact that it was their leadership that made it so.

When they weren't in the field they mixed up their routines; sometimes training, sometimes meditating, and sometimes spending day upon day in the Archives looking for some small snippet of information that Obi-Wan had been hankering over. If he hadn't been so happy about having someone to spend time with, he might have been suspicious. Anakin had absolutely no interest in the inner-workings of Coruscant’s judicial constructs, politics in general made him fall asleep. However, Obi-Wan was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth...especially when it was being so helpful.

Besides, Anakin thought he was _funny_ , though stars knew how he'd deduced that one. Qui-Gon had once told him his humor could put a rampaging Gorog to sleep. The laughter in the younger man’s eyes was completely genuine, and _that_ was something he couldn't ignore or fail to appreciate. It never occurred to him that they were both unconsciously gravitating towards each other due to the fact that they'd never really connected to anyone else.

Anakin was clingy as a child, but he'd chalked it up to attachment to his mother. When Shmi Skywalker died, he'd been unsure if his padawan would survive it, but he'd pulled through. Obi-Wan had never even entertained the thought that Anakin might care about him, that his willingness to persevere was due to his affection and loyalty to his Master. It was true that Anakin hated to disappoint, that his failures weighed more heavily on him than most, but he was also initiated far older and the Chosen One to boot. That kind of pressure would drive anyone batty. 

No, Anakin was simply more burdened than your average Jedi...or so Obi-Wan told himself. And when they started to bicker into the young man’s teenage years he credited hormones with the cause. There were times when his mind whispered that it was something else. Luminara approached him saying that Anakin had told her that Obi-Wan hated him. This was after a particularly bitter argument involving Anakin’s failure to listen to instructions in the field. Still smarting from their spat, he'd disregarded it as dramatic pity-seeking. So continued their gradual alienation, until now.

“Kriff, I don't think the Sorkins did anything noteworthy up 'till a hundred years ago.”

Obi-Wan glanced up from his copy of _’Stumped by Sump: The Mysterious World of the Nukongs and their Mining Endeavors’_ , raising an eyebrow as he did so. 

“Did you check back to their settlement on Lithui?” 

“Yea. Seems like they enjoyed stabbing the shit out of rival clans but that's about it.” A leather-gloved hand flicked off the transmitter with a resigned sigh. “There's no mention of even an inkling of Force Sensitivity.” Blue eyes flickered over his choice of literary education. “Any luck there?”

Obi-Wan grimaced.

“Nothing that would hold up in a Council Session...the Nukongs are a destitute people. What little information they preserve isn't necessarily accurate.” 

“...So we're back to square one.”

“For now” Obi-Wan agreed, standing up and stretching. The lights in the Archives were mostly dimmed. It was nearly 2300, and they were the only people left perusing the texts at such a late hour. Catching the back end of Anakin’s groan, he smirked. “You don't _have_ to help me with this you know...this is personal research, the Council didn't give it to me.”

“I don't mind” Anakin muttered, gesturing for a security Droid to lock up behind them. “I just can't figure out why it matters if there's a history of Force Sensitivity on obscure alien planets.”

“Because it means we might be missing out on Jedi initiates simply by overlooking their physiology. Just one planet could mean several dozen missed potential Younglings.”

“We have a lot of Younglings.”

Obi-Wan squinted down the dark corridor leading to their quarters and promptly tripped over his cloak.

“We do” he agreed loftily, hopping slightly on one foot as he pulled his robes away. “But that doesn't mean we'll have them in the future. Jedi don't have children, so genealogical bloodlines that include high midichlorian levels die with them. It’s like plucking fruit from a tree with no existing genetic copy; and when it dies...its species die with it.”

“So why haven't the Jedi gone extinct?” Anakin queried, punching in the code to their quarters and stepping back as the door slid open. 

“Mostly because not all Jedi become Knights. Force Sensitives sent to AgriCorps often start families, and those that don't get chosen by a Knight or Master and leave the Order choose their own paths.” Clapping his hands once, Obi-Wan watched as the lights to their quarters switched on with a low hum. “Nevertheless, we still take what we can find.” 

Crossing the confined space, he kicked off his boots and placed them meticulously next to his bedroom door; throwing his socks down the laundry chute. Anakin drifted away to check his messages on their shared comm unit, the mechanical beep of various commands filling the silence. Down the hall, a gaggle of mischievous padawans were trying and failing to traverse the corridors unnoticed. Obi-Wan idly wondered if Ahsoka was among them, but a sideways glance at Anakin-whose head had snapped up at the commotion-told him otherwise. Despite his reputation as a rampant rule-breaker during his padawan years, the young man brokered no such actions from his charge. Ahsoka was anything but reckless, but her Master was tightfisted in a way that often had Obi-Wan raising his eyebrows. It was protectiveness-probably-but it was also a little bit ridiculous. 

“We have a mission.”

The Jedi Master lifted his head and made his way over to the comm unit to stand by his former padawan. Anakin pulled up the specs and handed them to him...folding his arms and looking disgruntled. 

“I dunno why Mace thought it better to leave the message in _my_ inbox when you’ll obviously be heading the whole thing.”

Alarm spread through Obi-Wan as he absorbed the briefing, his knuckles tightening on the holopadd as it became clear just _why_ Windu had thought it better to contact Anakin rather than simply pass the message along. 

“Anakin...have you read this? Thoroughly?”

The younger man scoffed. 

“Yeah. Drug run” he muttered, waving an errant hand. “Thought we were through with those but...whatever. It’s not like there’s a _war_ going on or anything. Something called _Corellian Moondust_...heavy stuff. I’m the grunt and you’re the dealer...pretty straightforward.” 

“You’re not just the grunt” Obi-Wan said shakily. “And this is _ugly_ stuff… _really_ ugly. If you’d read the whole thing you wouldn’t be complaining.” 

“Why? It’s not like I’m gonna have to take it, right?” When his comrade-in-arms didn’t reply, he turned to face him. _”Right??”_

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. 

“The seller in question is Higii Nor. He’s number two on the Galactic Criminal Apprehension System’s most wanted list. The drugs he handles do more than addle your brain...they make you… _lose_ all of your inhibitions. Depending on what formula you select...it can make the receiver do just about anything...and the only cure is acting out whatever the substance commands. Resist...and you die.” He slammed the padd down. “Higii doesn’t sell to those who refuse to sample. That’s what’s made him so hard to catch...even the best of our law enforcement aren’t going to risk shooting up an unknown substance...and Nor gets to call the shots on what the grunt does. So yes Anakin, you’ll have to take it.” He shook his head. “I can’t let you do this. There’s no telling what Higii will give you, if he catches even the slightest inkling we’re Jedi he’ll inject something that’s intrinsically against the Code.” 

“I’m not exactly your picture-perfect Knight when it comes to following the Code” Anakin said dryly, folding his arms. “If I have to do one more fucked-up thing to catch a wanted criminal...how bad can it be?”

“You could kill someone” Obi-Wan said bluntly. “You could kill _me_.”

“So kill me first” Anakin replied stubbornly. “I’ll leave my lightsaber behind, you’ll have the upper hand.” 

The older man grimaced. 

“No...Anakin. No. I’m not risking your life for some petty drug regime.”

The younger man shrugged. 

“Okay, I can’t force you...but I really doubt the Council’s gonna see it the same way.” He raised a sardonic brow. “They’ll see your refusal as _attachment_. Especially if you give them the same reasoning you just gave me.”

“Oh, _now_ you’re using Temple dogma to lecture me?” Obi-Wan scoffed. “That’s rich.” 

And yet, a sinking feeling in his chest told him Anakin was right. The Senate had likely reached out to the Jedi due to their fierce detachment from emotionalism. If anyone was qualified to operate a drug sting that involved narcotics centered on impulse, it was the Order. And who better than the Temple’s A-team? The Hero With No Fear and the Negotiator? Not for the first time, Obi-Wan cursed the titles the media had given them...it was like handing them to the political regime on a silver platter. If they didn’t comply with orders from the Council, it was very likely they’d be separated due to their perceived attachment...worst case scenario, Obi-Wan would be dismissed from the Council because of his inability to see past his emotions. It wasn’t like Windu to give them do-or-die missions...and he said so out loud.

“The Senate probably lit a fire under his ass” Anakin replied. “You know how they get with their little spats; _’Lend us the Chosen One or you won’t be privy to the next executive tea party’_. That sorta thing.”

“Inappropriate Anakin” Obi-Wan said sharply. Then he sighed. “But...your reasoning is sound.”

“Of course it is” the young man said smugly. 

“It wasn’t a compliment” he replied irritably. “I still don’t like it, and I’m not going to kill you if it comes to it. I’ll put you to Sleep and throw you in a stasis chamber ‘till they find an anecdote.”

“See? You always think of something.” 

“There’s always the possibility of you using the Force against me.”

“So collar me.”

Obi-Wan winced. Force-inhibiting collars were nasty...and usually only reserved for those who couldn’t control their abilities, or by criminals who feared their power. He’d only been privy to them once, and it was like having half his soul ripped from his body. It was a numbness that left him feeling utterly _empty._

“...I’ll carry one with me. But I’m not using it unless I have no other choice.” Anakin rolled his eyes as if to say _’it’s your funeral’_ before stripping off his cloak and heading to the ‘fresher. “We leave at 0700” he called at his retreating back. “So have your things ready.” 

A jaunty wave was his only reply, and Obi-Wan sighed tiredly before turning to trudge to his room. He’d long ago given up on overpowering Anakin’s indomitable spirit. Once his mind was set on something, he rarely failed, and Obi-Wan was left to hang on for the ride. In some ways, it was nice. If he was feeling a little bit antsy-(something that rarely happened)-he knew that at some point in the next few days, Anakin was bound to pull some sort of stunt that he would get pulled into in one way or another. It probably wasn’t healthy...relying on the guarantee of someone else’s weakness to garner his desire for thrill, but he’d never been able to fully suppress Anakin’s adrenaline addiction...so he embraced it when he could, in his own way. 

Folding his cloak and placing it on his dresser, Obi-Wan set his alarm, undressed, and crawled into bed. He spent several minutes staring at the ceiling; tracing a familiar hairline crack that had been his companion ever since he was a padawan before rolling onto his side and closing his eyes. In the next room over, the sounds of Anakin fumbling around with his latest mechanical project lulled him to sleep. Obi-Wan could only hope that whatever came of this mission, they would survive it intact.

Looking back on that night several weeks later, he bitterly wished he had hoped for more. 

“Intact” was...after all...a relative term.


	2. No Favors

Anakin didn’t like civillian freighters. 

They were ugly, loud, and slow...not to mention overcrowded. Shifting uncomfortably in his plastisteel seat, he eyed the Bespinian couple across from him with a feeling of resentment. Next to him, Obi-Wan was buried in an extensive government report detailing Higii’s movements over the past six years. From what Anakin had read, he rarely moved from Corellia, and it was really a miracle he hadn’t been caught. Encounters of the close type were ugly. Moles sent in rarely came out...almost instantly hooked on whatever substance the man used at the time, turned into bootlegging grunts or sold as drug-addled pleasure slaves. Those that _did_ return usually didn't come back in one piece. There was one particularly nasty report of an undercover whose body parts were ferried back over the course of a year. Shady occupation aside, Higii was smart...if not a little bit crazy. Anakin raised his organic arm to itch the space where mech and shoulder met on the opposite side.

They'd dealt with this type before....and it was never easy. There were always no-win situations...scenarios where they had to think on their toes and pray for the best no matter how desperate things seemed. Anakin was good at thinking on the fly, but Obi-Wan was prone to situational hysteria...especially if they took what he deemed to be unnecessary risks. Anakin could jump a speeder going eighty down a crowded civilian causeway, but he couldn't always rely on his former Master to follow his cues. Obi-Wan was not reckless. In a sense, they were polar opposites and it had nearly cost them their lives on several occasions. As much as they trusted each others’ combative prowess...they clashed when it came to decisions in tight spaces. When Anakin failed to listen to Obi-Wan, he got a full-on Council lecture. Adversely, when Obi-Wan didn't listen to Anakin he got perps for cautious observation. 

“We'll start in Coronet and branch out if we have to” his former Master commented, throwing down his padd and stroking his beard in an absent-minded sort of way. “In all honesty, I don't think it will be hard to find Higii...it’ll be getting close to him.” He glanced up at the arrival sequence scrolling across the passenger section, tucking his padd into his pocket. “First, we should worry about securing lodgings...nothing too fancy, we don’t want to attract attention.” 

“There’s a tavern outside the gambling district with upstairs rooms to rent” Anakin supplied, leaning forward. “I checked out what was available before we left, and it's close to where we’ll be looking. Seems comfortable but not extravagant. There weren’t any amenities listed...but it was cheap so I figured you’d approve.” 

“We can purchase what we need from the market” Obi-Wan agreed. “The Council’s kept us tight on credits, so we’ll have to watch what we spend. None of your home-cooked csolcir and spice loaf...no matter how much I may rave over it.” 

Anakin smirked.

“What was it you said the other day? _’Anakin, if you ever find yourself expelled from the Temple, do the world a favor and become a chef...preferably at Dex’s so I can visit you.’”_

“I don’t know where you learned to cook” Obi-Wan muttered. “But it’s doing your ego no favors.” 

“Kit gave me a crash-course on your birthday” the younger man supplied, tucking his arms into his sleeves. “Then I just kept improvising. I like it...it’s relaxing.” 

“If you do become a chef, I would be happy to resign my station and become your permanent taste-tester.” 

At this, Anakin broke out into a series of hearty guffaws. 

“Oh yeah” he chortled. “Give it five months, we won’t be able to fit you through the door of the Diner. Don’t give me that shit Master, there’s no way you’re quitting the Order to be a sensory panelist.” 

“I’m old” Obi-Wan protested, his features twisting themselves into a portrait of mock-indignation. 

“Mhmm...and the gaggle of twenty-something women who like to trail after you on various shady missions are _definitely_ blind and stupid.” 

Obi-Wan hid a grin behind his hand.

“I hope you’re not insinuating you find me attractive, my _very_ young padawan.”

Anakin scoffed.

“Nuh-uh. And I’m not your padawan anymore."

They chuckled amicably before settling into a comfortable silence. In truth, Obi-Wan often seemed to be the only thing standing between him and utter destruction. Anakin wasn’t blind to his vices. He was too emotional, too quick to anger, and too passionate about living in general to ever make a proper Jedi. The only thing tethering him to the Council’s tolerance was a vague prophecy that may or may not have some relation to him. He could acknowledge his shortcomings ‘till he fell over and turned to dust, but changing them was a whole different matter. 

Anakin sighed and glanced out the window to their left; letting streaks of starlight burn into his retinas before looking away again. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t tried to conform...especially when he’d first joined the Order. Confused by the death of the man who was supposed to be his Master and assigned to a newly Knighted Obi-Wan who _clearly_ resented his charge...he’d tried _so hard_ to be the best Jedi possible. He’d trained far later than any of his fellow initiates and studied twice as hard when it came to lectures. Praise from his soon-to-be Master was few and far between, so when he finally, _finally_ was ready to be a padawan...he determined to try even harder. 

This proved to be a poor choice, Obi-Wan was less than impressed by his relentless juggernauting...even Yoda pulled him off to the side and cautioned him about becoming too absorbed in becoming the ‘best.’ It was only then that he understood that being a Jedi wasn’t about being better...it was about embracing what you had to learn. And-of course-to a twelve year old initiate, that meant running about like a meewit with its head cut off and ‘learning’ about everything physically possible. To his utter delight, Obi-Wan seemed to warm to this approach with a sort of quiet exasperation...his teaching becoming less obligatory lectures and more the patient, chiding, yet quietly affectionate tutelage he’d always longed for. They spent hours upon hours in the Room of a Thousand Fountains pouring over holobooks detailing various fauna from different worlds and weekends were spent sequestered in the library hunting snippets of old Coruscanti Legends...Anakin hanging on to every word from Obi-Wan’s mouth like it was verbal gold. When they sparred, there was always a backstory to every kata...a name behind each move that he performed. It was fascinating to see how the legacy of the Jedi had been built...how so much history was rolled up in one place and available at his fingertips. 

Then...abruptly...it all stopped. 

Despite Obi-Wan’s insistence that he was simply busier, Anakin knew the Council had ordered him to pull away. They were spending days upon days upon days together...and the older man was starting to think of himself as a parental figure rather than simply an instructor. He tucked Anakin into bed and ‘picked him up’ from lectures like your typical father waiting for their child after school. If Anakin was sick he fussed like a crechemaster until he was better and they played board games on rainy days rather than congregating in the communal lounge like other Master-Padawan teams. To Obi-Wan and the Council, it was an intervention necessary to preserve the sanctity of their relationship…

...to a thirteen-year-old boy...it was a monstrous betrayal. 

Anakin withdrew into himself ‘till the only face he presented to the public was one of stern countenance and apathetic indifference. He disregarded Yoda’s caution to not focus on being the ‘best’ and threw himself into his training. When he Force-exploded an asteroid mammoth, Obi-Wan looked at him like he didn’t know him anymore, and he felt a vicious sort of vindication. _This_ was Obi-Wan’s fault...he’d abandoned him and left him to care for himself...and now he would reap the consequences. This was-of course-not necessarily true...the older man did his best to instruct Anakin without incorporating emotionalism...but to Anakin it was insulting. He’d already seen what could be...if Obi-Wan would just accept that nurturing a child wasn’t a sign of weakness...it was too late for him to try a more structuralist approach. So they grew ever more bitter towards each other...and by the time he turned fifteen...Obi-Wan was nothing more than an obligatory acquaintance that he saw on a daily basis. He couldn’t say he _hated_ him...but he didn’t respect him as much as he probably should have. 

When Anakin met Padme...he’d respected and admired her, but it didn’t go any further than that. She in turn obviously wanted more from him, but he couldn’t give it to her without being dishonest...and he’d seen the consequences of dishonest love too many times. Naboo was indescribably beautiful...Padme was _beautiful_...but he didn’t love her, and he told her as much. 

“It’s not you” he’d murmured as they sat by the fire. “You’re funny, smart, pretty...you’re a hell of a catch...but I can’t...I can’t lead you on.” 

She’d stared at him for a few moments, as if gauging what he’d said to be true, then she’d kissed his cheek and thanked him for not deceiving her. Afterwards...when his mother passed away, she was a solid form of friendly support, and he began to think that perhaps the world wasn’t as dishonest and underhanded as he’d imagined it to be. Losing his mom was like being ripped in half...but at least he wasn’t alone. When it came to Geonosis...Anakin decided he was finished fighting with Obi-Wan. It didn’t matter what he’d said or done in the past, he was doing his duty as a Jedi, and he couldn’t afford to be angry with him. The only person he was hurting was himself. 

When he returned from escorting Padme back to Naboo, he collected a tactical debate on the political constructs circling Bespin and brought it back to their shared quarters. Nothing could have prepared him for the look of shocked disbelief when he asked Obi-Wan if he’d like to go over the details with him. Disbelief quickly turned into suspicion, and the entire affair was so tense you could have cut it with a butter knife...but it felt...good. Letting go of all the anger inside of him forced him to see how much he’d _hurt_ Obi-Wan in the past. 

Slowly, like the erosion of water against stone...his Master began to open up to him bit by bit. The relief in his eyes was heartbreaking, like he’d been _waiting_ for Anakin to put his petty resentments aside and approach him as a friend and confident. It wasn’t so often when they were around others; Obi-Wan was the perfect picture of stoic Jediness in pleasant company. When they were alone, however, it was entirely different. They swapped tavern jokes they’d learned on the field and watched old holomovies that put Anakin to sleep but had Obi-Wan on the edge of his seat every single time. There was a subtle humor to his countenance that was endearing and somewhat surprising...like the ghost of a laugh in a warm, dim room. More obvious than any of this was the fact that Obi-Wan was _lonely._ Very few of his fellow Masters went out of their way to speak with him, and Anakin suspected that it had a lot to do with the fact that he wasn’t much of a free-thinker. Obi-Wan did things by the book, but there was an ingenuity to his thought process that you could miss entirely if you weren’t looking close enough. 

When Anakin brought up the cause of their alienation, it seemed as if he barely remembered it...associating his estrangement as an overflow from puberty. In some ways, it was vindicating. The older man truly saw his actions towards Anakin as a child as everyday subservience; he’d done his duty and forgotten about it. Someone who didn’t understand the mechanisms of the Order might have found it insulting, but that wasn’t the case. Anakin had _always_ wanted to be a Jedi like his Master when he was younger, and he couldn’t fault Obi-Wan for following the Code. A child couldn’t differentiate between detachment and preservation, but as he got older, he could understand it more. 

Obi-Wan knew nothing but the Code; his years with Qui-Gon tempering his penchant for rigidity perhaps a bit. His Master’s death along with the introduction of Knighthood and his tutelage of Anakin had likely broken his shields slightly...but he’d stepped back and acknowledged his shortcomings. If he didn’t want to talk about it, it likely mean he’d accepted it and moved on. Anakin had trouble moving on from tripping over a boulder...he envied those who could send their emotions into the Force and walk away...which-he supposed-was why he’d been so angry with his Master for so many years. Now, however, he recognized it as Obi-Wan’s mark as a true Jedi...a damn near-perfect one...and he didn’t resent him for it. 

“It always concerns me when you’re quiet for this long.” 

Anakin smiled and tossed a sardonic grin at his former Master, who was thumbing through a magazine he must have found lying about. The older man raised his brows questioningly.

“Just reminiscing” he replied. “Of the time when you got stuck in a bacta tank and had to bust your way out with a pair of flexclamps.”

Obi-Wan scowled. 

“If I remember correctly, it was _you_ who placed me in temporary stasis because I was grazed with laser fire...I also remember that I perfectly functional and you were absolutely hysterical.” 

“You’re always telling me I can never be too careful” Anakin protested. “I was just following your advice.” 

“Wasting precious bacta on someone with minor wounds capable of Force-Healing reflects only on your impulsiveness at the time” the older man said loftily. “I take no responsibility for it.” Relenting a bit, he smirked. “Though, I will admit that I was rather popular afterwards for being the only man to escape a fully fledged containment tank with nothing but a pair of medical pliers.” 

“See? You _did_ get something positive out of it.”

“Oh, hush.That doesn’t mean it was necessary.”

***“Attention passengers, we will be arriving on Corellia in fifteen minutes. Please make sure you have your personal belongings collected. Thank you for travelling with StarCrossings Incorporated, we appreciate your patronage.”***

“How long do we have our rooms?” Obi-Wan queried as Anakin tucked his comm back into his pocket and checked his seat for any discarded items. 

“About a month” he replied, adjusting the leather glove covering his mechanical arm. “I know it’s probably longer than we’ll end up staying, but I wanted to be sure.” He grimaced. “They don’t offer refunds but it’s not much of a loss.” 

His former Master nodded and threw away the ration package he’d been holding on to for the majority of the flight. There was a loud ***ping*** along with the sound of the thrusters powering down. Immediately, a mad rush ensued as their fellow passengers hastened to disembark...jostling each other and making a rather impressionable mess of it all in the long run. A few years ago, Anakin might have been among them, but he’d long ago learned that it was better to remain seated until everything died down. Besides, Coronet was a massive city...and he didn’t want to risk losing Obi-Wan in the crowd. His training Bond was still active, but relying on it as a GPS didn’t always work. 

Once most of the throng had cleared away, the two Jedi stood and made their way to the exit where the mechanical stewardess wished them a good evening and rattled of the names of several eateries before sending them on their way. The area they had landed on was that of the middle-class population; with housing spires and shops that stretched as far as the eye could see. They appeared to be several tiers above ground level, and there was a monorail system that offered transports to various sector locations. Obi-Wan led them to the right, down a flight of ferrocrete stairs and onto a slightly grimier platform sporting a track made for what Anakin assumed was a subway. His suspicions were confirmed when a smudgy metro train came screeching to a halt in front of them and opened its doors. 

“We’ll take the next one” Obi-Wan commented, moving to sit down on a bench. “This one isn’t going to Teeno Village.”

Anakin grunted in affirmation and pulled his comm out to check the news. To the left, a gaggle of teenagers were roughhousing as they stood near the edge of the tracks...good-naturedly stepping as close to the ledge as they could before jumping back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Obi-Wan watching them with a somewhat concerned expression. The older man observed for a while before evidently deciding they were capable of taking care of themselves; slouching slightly as he settled in to take a quick snooze. The reception was utterly terrible, at least in this part of the city, and Anakin soon resolved himself to keeping watch and hoping that they wouldn’t be stuck there all night. 

About thirty minutes later, another train pulled up to the station-this one garishly graffitied-and Anakin shook Obi-Wan awake so they could board. The teenagers remained on the platform, evidently not bound for the same destination; or simply not intending to board at all. The car Obi-Wan selected was relatively empty, save for a lone female Lowen dressed head-to-toe in yards of dark fabric. She spared them little more than a disdainful glance before her gaze returned to the window. The subway took them a little over a block away from the tavern where their rooms were rented. Here, the difference between the middle class sector of the city and the lower class was ostentatious. The majority of the architectural framework was aging ferrocrete; a dull metallic color that reflected the neon hues of various seedy shops and gambling kiosks. There was a polluted tang to the air; reminiscent of grease left out too long and poorly compacted garbage. Here and there, chimneys on top of buildings and vents in the sidewalk spurted a cascade of rank steam; rising into the chilly late-night air to coalesce with the hopelessly dank atmosphere. The populace hurried to and from their destinations at a brisk pace, knowing the risk of dallying too long in unguarded streets. An occasional hoverbike raced by, its owner tucked low over the handlebars with a cloth wrapped around his or her face; a poor shield against the tepid environment. 

The tavern Anakin had communicated with didn’t have a record of their reservation, and he cursed their luck. They were informed that a couple had already taken up residence in their stead...and that their credits had never been received. The young man was left to shiver under a leaky exhaust pipe while Obi-Wan comm’d the Temple to wheedle more credits out of them. They ended up having to walk another five blocks to another potential place of residence-this one an apartment complex-where they were led into a durasteel high rise that looked like it was about to collapse at any second. Once the security gate shut in their wake, Anakin could hear the sounds of music thumping behind closed doors, the occasional high, thin wail of a sick child, and the all-too-common ambiance of a couple fighting in poorly muffled yells. The landlord was a bedraggled-looking Entrallan who spoke broken Standard and was very irritated at having to find them a room so late at night. They were eventually housed on the seventh floor, in a three-room hovel that had a kitchen whose counter tops were unspeakably filthy, a bedroom with an iron-frame double sporting a sheetless mattress stained in what looked like blood, and a ‘fresher with a cracked toilet and a sonic shower whose drain was clogged with green hair. The wallpaper was cracked and peeling, and the windows had exterior metal bars with barbed synth-mesh. When one coined the term ‘light fixtures’ in a place like this...it was understood that they were bare bulbs attached to the ceiling with pull-switches. 

While Obi-Wan squared things away with the landlord, Anakin set about attempting to make the ‘fresher usable. ‘Usable’ was a tentative term of course; and consisted of him scrubbing the toilet and sink with sanitary patches, throwing the green hair out the window so it could stick to the bars and swabbing the shower. There was functional hot water, blessedly, and that made things somewhat easier. He’d just finished shoving a loose screw into the shower head with the Force when Obi-Wan poked his head in and grimaced. 

“Help me flip this mattress, would you?” the older man muttered. “I’m not sleeping on...whatever that is.” 

Anakin grunted somewhat sympathetically and tossed whatever products he’d been using out the window so it could stick to the green hair, pulling his cloak about him and closing the ‘fresher door. The opposite side of the mattress was thankfully blood-free; and mostly clean except for a wealth of expelled dust. By mutual agreement, they spread their cloaks as best they could to cover the majority of the surface, and Anakin flopped down only to promptly sneeze as Obi-Wan disappeared into the ‘fresher. A space-heater on the opposite side of the room was humming quietly, and Anakin thanked the Force for small miracles as he kicked his boots off and pulled his tunics over his head to use as a pillow. Closing heavy lids, he attempted to fall asleep before realizing the glare from the bare overhead bulb was simply _not_ gonna cut it. Cracking open a single eye, Anakin concentrated for a moment; reaching into the Force and channeling it...a small smile curving his lips as the answering **_*click*_** informed him that his efforts had been rewarded. When Obi-Wan returned from the ‘fresher he was already asleep, exhaustion dragging him into the blessedness of slumber like the pull of a quasar hurtling through the blackness of space….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Notes** : Thank you for reading. That's it for tonight. Sorry if some of the detail seems erroneous but i do like to "set the stage" so to speak,and I wanted to build a picture of things. Please tell me what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	3. Mechanisms

Obi-Wan woke up blessedly warm and indescribably comfortable. 

It took him a few moments of wallowing in the luxurious sensation before his recollection of the day before caught up to him. Reluctantly dragging his eyelids open; Obi-Wan followed the trail of some swirling dust motes caught in a sunbeam. They twirled idly, variations of luminescent intensity fanning out over the tangle of their cloaks...like solar effulgence against mahogany water. Gradually, he became aware of the brush of flaxen hair at the nape of his neck...the contour of another body molded against his...still lost in the depths of sleep. Barely distinguishable breaths traced a path across his cheek, fingers clad in leather curled over his hip like the crest of a black wave....their grip possessive even in unconsciousness. The skin of Anakin’s belly was firm but pliant against his back; silken despite the ripple of muscle so obviously beneath...deceptively warm. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and willed the heat that had risen to suffuse his pores to go away...bringing up his shields-which had dissipated as he slept-and shoving his emotions behind them. Wriggling experimentally, he grimaced as he realized his arm was very much trapped beneath him; a fact that would make his escape much harder. The steady breaths against his earlobe stuttered in response to his movement, and he froze. To his chagrin, the hand grasping his hip loosened only to snake across his middle and pull him even closer. Now, he could feel every contour of the lithe body behind him...even down to the more _x-rated_ areas. The Jedi Master gritted his teeth and told himself that the only thing he should feel was discomfort...or perhaps even mild annoyance. His body rejected this notion and told him it felt _hungry_ , _deprived_ , and _very, very, **interested**._ Ignoring the side of him that bewailed the fact that it was _warm_ and _happy_ , Obi-Wan decided to forgo discretion and rolled himself off the edge of the mattress onto the floor. 

The ensuing **_*thump*_** woke Anakin, and-apparently-the residents directly under them, who began to pound on the ceiling with what was presumably a broom handle. By the time his fellow Jedi gathered his wits enough to lean over the bed; Obi-Wan had donned his tunic and was dragging his cloak over his arms with a sort of weary resignation. 

“That’s a helluva a way to wake up” Anakin commented groggily, rubbing his mussed hair with an idle hand. “You making yourself popular with the neighbors?”

“Evidently” Obi-Wan replied, picking himself off the floor and dusting himself off. “We should find something to eat and get started. The sooner we apprehend Higii the sooner we can leave.”

Food, of course, was not something readily available in the complex, and they were forced to go to the market to find breakfast. The streets they’d traversed the night before weren’t much better in the morning light. The populace was out and about, walking to work or going to the market as they were. The smog that littered the streets turned the sunlight a sickly mustard color; filtering through in weak rays that didn’t fully dispel the chill that permeated this part of the city. People here dressed in dull colors to avoid robbery, often covered head-to-toe in what appeared to be rags. Mothers toting their children to school kept them close, glancing anxiously over their shoulders with nervous and weary faces. Shopkeepers opening their establishments for the day chased the homeless seeking shelter under overhangs with sonic vacuums and broom handles. Here and there a beggar wandered the crowd shaking a cup and asking for loose change. 

The market wasn’t too much better, but the smell of refuse was slightly muted by the aroma of food. Makeshift tarps in various gaudy colors were caked with days upon days of grime and dust; stretching as far as the eye could see. Voices in various languages rose into the air haggling their wares in combative pitches, rallying for the proclamation of their sales to ascend above the rest. Obi-Wan let Anakin take the lead when it came to purchasing street food. The younger man was a master haggler, wheres’t Obi-Wan found it tedious and time consuming. In a different situation he might have simply bought everything at selling price, but they were limited when it came to credits and monetary efficiency was paramount. The Council already wasn’t happy about having to dish out additional finances to compensate their failure to procure the room they'd first booked. It took him half an hour, but Anakin was soon in possession of enough supplies to last them the better of two weeks. They took it back to the apartment to store in the cooling unit and chewed on some hubba slices while they poured over a map of the city. 

What with the changes in their accommodations, they were now less than half a mile outside the center of Teeno Village. Higii operated at the Westernmost edge, amongst a maze of vacant factory outlets whose owners had long given them up as a lost cause. Reports from previous stings indicated that he rotated between twelve vacant structures spanning across a three-mile radius, though no one had been able to ascertain any kind of habitual pattern. Occupation was likely based on where the most buyers were located at the time, and sales were only made after sundown. The last informant the feds attempted to work with had been strapped to the hull of a freighter and launched into deep space, so they were left to find a way in on their own. This was where Obi-Wan’s skills came in handy, come lunchtime they were wandering into the red light district; Anakin dressed as a rather scraggly-looking grunt and he in upper-class civilian dress. Their location put them about three quarters of a mile outside the factory outlets, and both were hoping they’d get pushed in that direction by the end of the day. 

This was the point where everything became extremely complicated. Obi-Wan’s cover as an influential Corellian Senator was solid, but he couldn’t ask too many questions. Higii only catered to the cautious, and running around like meewits with their heads cut off asking for drugs was strictly unprofessional. Thankfully, sources from previous stings were able to lead them to a shady pub next to a garishly lit gambling outlit. The only signs of its existence were two sets of dull chrome doors stamped with a coiling krayt dragon in washed-out green synth-stick. Anakin made a great show of stumbling against the doorframe as they went inside, and Obi-Wan felt a fierce and not entirely necessary sensation of pride. If there was anything he’d managed to drill into the younger man’s head, it was how to put on a persona and stick to it. By the time he was sixteen, Anakin could play both a pauper and a money-mongering politician in the same breath. The inside of the establishment was an astonishing opposition to the outside. All the amenities were up-scale and washed in a soft, stellar ivory that appeared to be emitting an eerie blue glow. The few people sitting at tables were lavishly dressed, one with a near-naked female slave kneeling obediently at her feet. Silvery droids floated refreshments to and from tables, their voices the cool, professional Midlia vocal patent that-if Obi-Wan remembered correctly-had only hit the digital markets about a week before. 

“The carpet doesn’t match the drapes” Anakin muttered, squinting around with a somewhat disgusted expression. “Or the other way around, doesn’t matter.” 

“I’m inclined to agree with you” Obi-Wan said mildly, nodding to the middle-aged concierge that approached them. “Even if the original context is...distasteful.” 

His former padawan snorted but didn’t reply, preferring to gaze at their apparent accompaniment, swaying slightly for emphasis. The man in question was short of stature, but willowy, with waist-length ash-blond hair giving some character otherwise unremarkable features. He was dressed in nondescript civilian-wear; high collar and stiff lapels...nothing of particular notice. 

“Welcome to Sundance” he murmured, inclining his head to Obi-Wan. “My name is Lirres, your host.” He straightened and eyed Anakin with an expression of revulsion. “Forgive me for prying...I haven’t seen you here before, and I remember _all_ my clients.”

“We’ve not had the pleasure” Obi-Wan replied, lifting his chin slightly. “But we’re not here for your...gratuity. I’m looking for ‘Rishe.” 

Immediately, Lirres’ expression grew wary and his gaze sharpened as it slid between them, fingers curling slightly in an unconscious gesture of nervousness. 

“I see” he said slowly. “Then you’ll know that Marishe does not work until the weekend.” 

“Yes, Iurdi said you’d say that” Obi-Wan muttered, picking at his cuticles with what he hoped was a disinterested air. “However, he assured me that she _could_ be made available for... _motivated_ customers.” 

They were regarded solemnly for a moment, and Obi-Wan drew his shields closer around his psyche, though there was no visible reason to really do so. Anakin had drifted slightly behind him, and he sensed rather than saw him grasp his lightsaber. 

“This way, if you please” Lirres said shortly after a moment. “Though...if I were you...I would leave your _pet_ here.” He shot Anakin another disparaging glare. “She won’t like him making a mess of the carpets.”

Obi-Wan grimaced inwardly, sending a silent mental apology to a violently protesting Anakin. Whirling about, he let a flicker of contriteness flash across his visage before pushing the younger man down on a bar stool, releasing him almost instantly and sliding the hand he had used across his vest.

“You will await me here, slave” he barked. 

Cerulean eyes flashed with instinctive rage, quickly replaced by a resigned understanding. 

“Master” he replied simply, lowering his head.

Lirres clucked his tongue. 

“Good” he said shortly before spinning about. “If you will.” 

Obi-Wan gestured for him to lead the way and they crossed the entertainment area to a blank wall on the opposite side. Lirres raised his hand and made a complicated gesture, his palm rising to about shoulder height, extending outwards; fingers twisting 'till there was an audible buzz and the wall slid back to reveal a richly adorned hallway that was dimly lit. Here, the decor was much less aeronautic, bordering on antique; with rich dark wood paneling and blood red carpet. Brazier-esque fixtures hung from the ceiling and they passed numerous silent doors on either side. Directly in front of them was a massive set of double doors with gilded handles, sparkling with some unidentifiable gem that was probably worth more than the Temple in its entirety. Here, Lirres stopped and adjusted his collar before tilting his head and looking upwards. Obi-Wan was forced to assume there was a hidden camera in an alcove above, because the doors swung open not but a few moments later. The room beyond was synonymous with the hallway they had just traversed. It appeared to have no windows and no doors save for the one they had just entered, which struck Obi-Wan as odd. Other than the outdated perfunctory fixtures, the space was unadorned and circular in shape; save for a single unadorned curule chair.

Before them sat what was, literally, one of the most beautiful women he had seen in his life. Skin as white as ivory matched with waves of silver hair the color of moonlight; cascading down slender shoulders in rivulets of iridescence. Thin, but not waif-like, with subtle curves in places that Anakin would call _’just right’_ and long, graceful fingers reminiscent of swaying anemone. These were tucked under a delicately ovular face with large, almond-shaped eyes the color of amethyst...long-lashed and unerringly cunning. Her mouth was pleasingly shaped but not overly full, and he suspected it could be rather cruel...the lightest hint of cerise coloring its inward curves before blending into the customary pearl shade of the rest of her skin. The garb she wore was simple but left nothing to imagination; a pale sheath of loose white fabric with one single string around a neck that was slender and long; tied at the back. She was adorned with numerous rings, bracelets, and necklaces that caught the light; making it hard to look at her directly for any extended length of time. Her gaze swept over them with the air of someone who was used to the unexpected, and Obi-Wan noted the long, cruel dirk that was strapped to her waist. Beside her, a man clothed in a black shroud knelt; a blaster at his hip. He did not move upon their arrival but Obi-Wan could sense his attention like it was a taut string ready to snap at any moment, despite the fact that he couldn’t see his face at all. 

“Marishe” Lirres said calmly. “This man claims to have been referred to you by Iurdi.” 

The cool gaze returned to him, and he fought down a shiver. The silent sentinel at her feet shifted slightly, as if Lirres’ statement had unnerved him. 

“Indeed?” Marishe said coolly, and her voice gave Obi-Wan no comfort. It was deep and smooth, like velvet and venom wrapped into vocal cords. She observed him a moment longer. “You seek Higii.” 

It was a statement, not a question.

“I do” Obi-Wan replied calmly.

“What is your name?”

“I am a Senator of the Republican Consult. Palpatine has his share of...discomforts when it comes to certain members of his advisory Council. I am here on his behalf to procure means of...subduing such irritations.”

Those lips curved up into a smirk.

“That is not what I asked, _Senator_.”

“My name is Raksha Taei” he said smoothly.

Her smile widened.

“You are lying.” The figure at her feet stiffened and made as if to stand but a firm gesture from her quieted him. “Be still Iurdi.” Slowly, the willowy woman rose and moved towards him, bare feet scuffing on the rubicund carpet. “I care not what your business is with Higii” she said carelessly, stepping up to Obi-Wan letting her gaze wander over his visage. “If you ask for him, I will tell you...but be warned that there are those who have come before you with similar intent...and I have yet to see one return.”

Obi-Wan held her gaze, despite his discomfort. Inside, he was veritably crumbling. Less than a day into this blasted mission and he’d already been ousted for deception. This had _never_ happened to him before. The Senate had chosen him because of his finesse, and the Council trusted him because he could talk his way out of an iron trap if he wanted to, yet Marishe had blown his strategy to pieces in little more than ten minutes. Vaguely, he could sense Anakin’s mental presence across their Training Bond, but he doubted calling him in would do either of them any good. They’d dealt with elitists before, but none of them had ever been as observant or powerful, except perhaps the Father. Further observation proved even more damning...Marishe was Force Sensitive in a way that was utterly alien. 

“...Are you a Celestial?” he blurted. 

Depthless eyes widened, then tilted upwards in amusement.

“Not quite” was the humored reply. “My mother...was someone with whom you are familiar. You might have known her as the Daughter.” 

“That’s impossible” Obi-Wan said flatly. “The Daughter was confined to Mortis up until her death.” 

“The Ones were only exiled on Mortis after the Mother transformed into Abeloth and the Father was forced to seal her in The Maw” was the cool reply. “They lived many of your lifetimes on a different planet...where the Font of Power and the Pool of Knowledge reside.” Marishe turned and began to pace back to her seat. “Before that...there were visitors to their home world, though few and far between and only when the Father allowed it.”

“Why are you here?” he demanded. “What business could you possibly have with someone like Higii?”

A shadow of irritation passed over her flawless features.

“I am here as long as I see that there is work to be done” she said cryptically. “You are young...and it would take too long to explain my purpose to you before you crumbled into dust.” She sighed. “Such is the way of mortals.” Long fingers curled in an unidentifiable gesture. “You will find Higii at the third rotation warehouse...I believe it is called _’Sector 45x’_ on those silly maps your...predecessors saw fit to bestow upon you.” She fixed him with a pointed look. “I warn you now, however, that you walk into peril. The one you have brought with you is not as strong as you, and should Higii see either of you as a threat, he will find a way to bring you both to your knees.” Obi-Wan opened his mouth to continue his questioning but her lips curled into a sneer. “You did not come here to seek me out” she snapped. “I have no time to consult with you, and I have no desire to impart upon you that which your fragile mind could never possibly comprehend. There will come a time where your kind will perhaps understand the workings of the Galaxy more thoroughly, but now is not that time...and I will not waste my life explaining esoteric to you...Jedi. Your Order is ancient, but my kind are far older and far wiser...you are confined to traditionalism and idealism, your control is both abhorrent and commendable but it _will not prevail_ for eternity.” 

Obi-Wan sighed resignedly.

“I’m...not going to pretend to understand what you’re saying, but I respect your silence.”

“I will say one thing” she said, and the steel in her voice was utterly chilling. “When the Chosen One left Mortis...he set into motion a series of events that cannot be undone. _Ruin_ has come unto the Galaxy, and it is all of his making.” 

The Jedi Master frowned.

“I don’t-”

“-You don’t understand” she sneered. “Because he hasn’t told you what the Father asked of him, and what he in turn refused.” Briefly, the essence of her anger appeared to swell around her before she released a shuddering breath and jerked her head to the left. “Get out of my sight, and take that abomination with you.” 

Lirres, who had remained silent for the entirety of their conversation, grasped Obi-Wan’s arm in a gentle but firm grip and steered him out of the room. As the doors closed behind them, he couldn’t help but feel that he had missed out on an extraordinary experience. If Yoda had been present, he’d have probably told him to screw the rest of his existence and live his life as a hermit listening to a child of a Celestial spin him tales...but he’d been ordered to leave and was grievously overpowered. Glancing over his shoulder, a chill went down his spine as he saw nothing but a blank wall where the heavy double doors had previously been. Indeed, all the doors along the hallway had disappeared in their entirety. A great darkness gathered at the corners of the passage and appeared to be enroaching upon them as they departed. In different circumstances, he might have been alarmed, but Lirres paid the absurdity no mind and he determined to do the same. 

Anakin was still hovering by the bar where they’d left him, but there was a grimness to his expression that told Obi-Wan he’d sensed a little of what had gone on during his meeting with Marishe. Memories of their time on Mortis flickered behind his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders was obvious. Their encounter with The Ones had left the younger man permanently scarred, for more reasons than Obi-Wan had been able to discern. Whatever the father had done or said to him, it left him haunted. Lirres’ gaze snapped between them and a strange expression wrought itself over his features before it disappeared behind a cool mask of neutrality. 

“May I offer you a refreshment before you leave?” he asked smoothly. “I may even have something for your...pet.” 

“No, thank you” Obi-Wan replied. “We have what we came here for. I trust that we can rely on you for your discretion.”

Lirres looked mildly offended.

“I’m an entrepreneur, but I’m not a blabbermouth” he said sharply. “Regrettable though it is that I’ve made no profit from your diversion of my valuable time...I’m not foolish enough to interfere with Her mechanisms.”

The Jedi Master frowned.

“Mechanisms?”

The older man looked distinctly uncomfortable as he appeared to realize what he’d just said.

“You must understand” he said slowly. “There is more at work here than what you’ve come to accomplish. It’s...dangerous for you to be involved...especially one of your ilk.” The expression he shot Obi-Wan left him chilled to the bone. “I’ll only say this once, and not again. You walk into peril, possibly death. As much as I love Marishe, she has her own means to an end, and if your slave has offended her in some way no matter how long ago, I fear for your lives.”

Obi-Wan hesitated, caught off-guard by Lirres’ blunt statement.

“I appreciate your concern, but we’ve a duty to perform...we’ll see ourselves out” he answered, gesturing for Anakin to follow him. “Thank you for your time.”

It had grown dark outside, and the Jedi Master was forced to wonder how long he’d been talking with Marishe. Though it had seemed to go on only a few minutes, it seemed that hours had passed. Once they were well away from the establishment, Anakin began bombarding him with questions.

“Who the hell _was_ that, Obi-Wan?” he snapped. “I could feel her Force Sensitivity across the room! It was like...like...” he trailed off and shuddered.

“She was a descendant of the Daughter, or so she claimed” he replied, stopping at an intersection to allow a speeder to cross. 

The younger man’s steps faltered as his surprise overtook him.

“...That’s impossible” he said incredulously. “She never mentioned having any children while we were on Mortis.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“Honestly Anakin...I’m not sure she would have remembered her at all. The Father wasn’t the type to let his children out from under his wing...especially not to _sire_ children. He likely let her progress through the pregnancy and then had the child sent away and her mother’s memory wiped.” He lifted his cloak to step across a puddle. “‘The Daughter would never have relinquished a child she had borne out of her own free will. It brings into question whether or not there are more of them.” His former padawan was thoughtful, his expression unreadable as they crossed the street and stepped up to a battered sign that declared the area in front of them unsafe. 

“Two blocks down and to the right” Obi-Wan muttered, mostly to himself. He glanced up at the sky as an afterthought. “It’s nearly dark, but we may want to give it a few hours. Showing up first will make us seem overeager.”

Anakin nodded absentmindedly and teetered sideways to lean against a wall, still apparently lost in thought. Pulling a water bottle from the confines of his cloak, Obi-Wan took a swig before handing it over to the younger man, who accepted it without comment. He didn’t miss the way the fingers on his organic hand trembled slightly when he gave it back. Sensing his curiosity, his former padawan grimaced.

“Sorry m’just...distracted, and I have a bad feeling about this.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“You? Mr. _’Charge headfirst into everything damn the loss of bodily limb’_?”

“I...I’m tired” was the defensive-and untruthful-response. 

Stopping, the older man put a hand to Anakin’s chest to stop him from going on without him. Placing the fingers of the other arm on his shoulder, he took a moment to look seriously at him. 

“We don’t have to do this. If I’m being completely honest with you, I don’t _want_ to do this.” Obi-Wan looked away and shook his head. “I...everything about it is...strange.” 

A silence stretched between them as both Jedi contemplated their situation. Around them, the city was descending into darkness; shopkeepers closing their establishments in the wake of a dying twilight whilst barkeeps and gambling kiosks blazed to life with scattered flickers of neon and gaudy music. It was on missions like this, in moments such as these, that Obi-Wan was reminded of how isolated Jedi could be. They had no friends on Corellia, not under their guise of a politician and his drug-addled grunt in any case. Should something happen to one of them, the other would be left to forge on alone or return to the Temple with their hands empty. It was an ugly reality that left him feeling desolate and completely empty. A chill, rank-smelling breeze washed over them and Anakin stirred, running a hand over his face. 

“We can’t back out now” he muttered. “There’s no excuse for it, the Council would eat us alive.”

He was right. Obi-Wan cursed their reputation and their skill sets, not for the first time. Rather than wasting his breath on a pointless reply, he turned and slammed his mental shields down; not missing Anakin’s startled intake of breath. He regretted the closure, but he couldn’t do this with their mental connection distracting him...especially if the younger man was going to be injected with copious amounts of narcotics. Gritting his teeth, he set a swift pace, determined to get this over with as soon as possible. The buildings they passed were boarded over and dismal-looking; even at a distance. Dark, broken windows glared out at the dimly lit streets like gaping maws; steam from broken air-intake vents hissing morosely in the tepid air. They passed no one upon entering the factory district, giving the entire place a haunted...disconsolate atmosphere. Here, even the moon was un-discernable...covered in a thick layer of smog and light pollution. Their only source of light came from humming halogen street lamps that flickered erratically. 

Sector45x was in the center of an electrical dead zone, and Obi-Wan was 100% positive that this was not an accident. For a block in every direction, their meager guide of poor illumination was nonexistent, swallowing the streets in a darkness that seemed almost physical in its density. Upon entering, every step seemed to cost him something vital...and he was forced to fall into a state of partial meditation in order to remain focused. Beside him, Anakin was as white as a sheet and his shields were like walls of iron...blocking out everything but his own sense of direction and purpose. Halfway down the block, they were met by a black-clad figure that did not greet them but beckoned for them to follow with a simple gesture; hair as red as blood peeking out from under a voluminous shroud. He-or she-was impossibly tall; towering over his former padawan by at least six inches...maybe more. It wore a simple blaster but Obi-Wan sensed rather than saw that this was purely decorative...its true strength hidden beneath robes like oily smoke and water.

The door to the warehouse was solid durasteel-eight inches thick with blast resistance-and the minute they stepped through it swung shut behind them with an ominous crash. Here, the darkness of the streets seemed like child’s play. This was short-lived, however, and there were numerous _***bang***_ s as a procession of blinding halogen lights illuminated the vast space. Before them, a lone man sat on the duracrete floor, and a quick glance behind them indicated that their silent guide had left them. Returning his gaze to their host, Obi-Wan was startled by his appearance. Reports of Higii had suggested him to be of Aqualish descent...but he could now see that this was completely untrue. Indeed, he could not identify his race at all, no matter how hard he tried to jog his memory. Higii’s appearance was basely androgynous; dark, dark skin that contrasted sharply with eyes the color of bleached bone except for the miniscule pinpoint of a pupil in each center. He was hairless save for an intricately shaped beard that appeared to be iridescent; shifting colors every few seconds so that it never settled on a single shade for long. His garb was similar to that of his attendant; save for the fact that it was grey and not black. The whole situation might have been utterly ridiculous, except for the sensation of raw malice that surrounded Higii. At once, Obi-Wan sensed that they had been desperately misinformed. _Kriff_ if their sources couldn’t even get his _race_ right, how the hell could he bank on the information they had given him about his personality?? Oh, he thoroughly believed that the man in front of them was as vicious and merciless as he’d been painted to be, but realistically, he had to accept the fact that he knew nothing concrete about his negotiation tactics or his methods of weeding out un-trustworthy clients. 

 

This meant-of course-that Anakin’s guise as an addict would not work. Thankfully, the younger man seemed to have surmised as much, and his gaze was purposefully sharp and observant. They watched in what seemed to be a unified mental form of tension as Higii rose, his robes curling about his feet before flaring sharply as if caught in a rough draft; regardless of the fact that the air was utterly still. His expression was unreadable, bordering on lifeless as he bowed perfunctorily; straightening to watch as they did the same. 

“I do not recognize either of you” he commented, and his voice was strangely inflected; with rolling ‘r’s and a distinct contusion of the letter ‘c’ into ‘ch’. 

“We were referred by a colleague” Obi-Wan replied. “I have a great amount interest in your product.”

Higii laughed then, and it was an ugly, derisive sound.

“And what makes you think that I want to sell you my wares? Whoever told you about me is either a lawman or an idiot. I prearrange all of my appointments, and I _never_ sell upon initial contact.”

“I’m aware of all that” Obi-Wan said lazily, taking a gamble and sinking into a cross-legged position. “But you can’t seriously think I believe that you weren’t expecting me.”

For a moment, Higii’s expression flickered; the monotonous planes of his visage turning into one of deep consideration before settling into neutrality once more. 

“Who is your Voice?”

“‘Rishe” he replied dryly. “As you very well know.”

The dealer observed them for a moment longer before turning away in order to stride to a corner of the room. 

“And your companion?” he said sharply, palming what appeared to be a control panel in the wall.

Obi-Wan smiled accommodatingly.

“It has come to my understanding that you prefer to...test a strand of unnamed product, one of your choosing...before coming to any sort of deal.”

At this, Higii’s expression morphed into one of utter delight. 

“You _are_ prepared” he breathed. The hidden panel slid open, and the black-cloaked attendant stepped through, holding a tray bearing a single glass of clear, colorless liquid. “You will not speak to them” he said sharply. “These are customers.” 

The heavily swathed figure nodded but did not deign to reply, preferring only to sweep over to Anakin and hand him the cup. Obi-Wan frowned.

“I...wasn’t aware that the product was administered orally.” 

Higii laughed again, and it was no more comforting than the first time.

“My company is past the age of intravenous distribution. Imagine how hard it would be for our customers to inject their desired targets! No, no better that they be served their poison unawares and be unable to pinpoint the exact moment of their deterioration later.” 

Abruptly, Anakin hissed. At the same time, Obi-Wan’s connection to the Force was completely severed...though he’d noticed it deteriorating over the course of their time in the warehouse. Higii made a swift, indiscernible gesture. The Force rippled with a single, agonizing screech of warning before the glass was knocked out of Anakin’s hand and the attendant plunged a syringe into his neck; thumbing the plunger unforgivably and retracting it just as swiftly. Obi-Wan’s former padawan gasped, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed silently. 

“Of course” Higii said lazily. “If that is the method you prefer...we are _obviously_ able to make accommodations.” He looked contemplatively at the crumpled figure before them. “I myself have always been fond of needles.”

Obi-Wan-who had frozen out of pure reflex-fought down the practically instinctual urge to defend his comrade-in-arms. He was out-numbered, out-maneuvered and _sitting on the karking floor._ Any move he made was synonymous with a death wish. He had not given permission for Anakin to be administered _anything_...technicalities aside it was dreadfully rude for a distributor to take matters into their own hands. Higii was showing him who was in control, and if he didn’t play his cards right...they wouldn’t get out of this alive. He cursed himself for being so unforgivably stupid. Force-shields were expensive and finicky, but when installed correctly they were devastating to a Jedi. Once the initial drain had been solidly established, it took little more than the press of a button to incapacitate midichlorian-flow completely. He made to stand but found himself immediately pinned into place by Higii’s monstrosity of an attendant.

“Astute” Obi-Wan replied dryly. “I was hoping you might administer something more...creative.” 

Higii smirked

“Oh, I plan to” he purred. “But I never discriminate when it comes to testing... _Jedi_. 'Rishe told me you were coming, and she wants revenge for whatever you’ve done. Who am I to deny the wants of a woman who is so obviously powerful?” 

Before Obi-Wan could even formulate some form of reply...to negotiate...to fucking _beg for Anakin’s life_...there was the concentrated pain of hair-thin metal against flesh....the sensation of icy liquid seeping into his veins. Higii’s face swam as he realized that they had walked into a veritable death trap...and despair crawled into his throat as he inventoried the myriad of warnings they had received. Obi-Wan’s vision failed him, and his consciousness was swift to follow after....

...he knew only blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I should probably note that Higii's name is pronounced Hig-ee-eye. There's a double inflection there I'm just not clear on how to format it.


	4. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING:** Graphic torture scene with psychological elements. I.e. trigger warning.

Everything was cold.

Obi-Wan’s return to wakefulness was a lot like being half-drowned, only to be yanked out of the water at the very last second. Even in his barely-cognizant state, the frigid air around him drove into his lungs like thousands of icy needles; bringing him upwards with a desperate gasp as he fought against hyperventilating himself right back into unconsciousness. Immediately, he attempted to reach inwards in order to regain some type of Balance....only to find that he couldn’t access the Force at all. He was still acutely aware of its presence, but it was like looking at it behind a wall of bullet-proof glass; observable yet untouchable. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the situational panic that had risen in his chest to the back of his mind, focusing instead on the condition of his body. Nothing was broken, though the injection site on his neck ached fiercely...it appeared that Higii hadn’t bothered to patch it. His fingertips felt slightly numb, with the occasional wracking tremor shuddering through his torso. Running a tongue over his teeth, Obi-Wan grimaced at the acidic, slightly cottony taste that filled his mouth. 

The floor beneath him was cold duracrete scattered with dusty particles that dug into his hand, though his head was partially pillowed by his arm. The rest of the room was a dismal vision of frigid iron-plated walls supported by massive dully glinting hex screws. A single twelve-inch can light was built into the ceiling and covered with heavy iron bars in a cross-hatch pattern. He appeared to be chained to one of the walls via ankle...crude but ultimately efficient, and someone had divested him of everything but his undertunic and pants. It took him a few minutes to stop focusing on how cold he was but eventually, Obi-Wan was able to pull himself into a rough sitting position and observe more thoroughly. He was in the far right corner of the room and facing what he supposed was the door, though it was hard to tell save for a single control panel that was covered by a thick sheet of plastisteel. Diagonally to his left, Anakin was slumped against the wall with his head between his knees and appeared to be shivering violently. His former padawan was similarly chained, though it appeared that he might have put up a fight at some point or another as there was a hairline scratch over the bridge of his nose and his knuckles were bruised. As if sensing his gaze, Anakin stilled and his head rose fractionally so his eyes could meet Obi-Wan’s. The older man tried for a rueful sort of smile but it came out as more of a grimace as his limbs trembled out of their own accord and he was left to gasp and try not to throw up.

He’d been in the field long enough to know the symptoms of withdrawal. 

Whatever Higii had shot him up with initially was solely for the purpose of incapacitating him, not drugging him. Obi-Wan frowned and clapped a hand to his neck, alarm spreading through him as his fingers ghosted over a second, barely-discernible injection site. So, Higii had evidently shot him- _them_ -up again...this time with whatever drug of his choosing. The cold sweat that had previously only covered his brow seemed to creep downwards...dusting his temples and settling like a tepid blanket over his arms. The loading dose must’ve been immense, he wouldn’t be feeling the effects of it’s excession otherwise...or the chemical properties of it were simply _that_ addictive. Either way, the options weren’t looking exactly cheerful. 

“How long?” Obi-Wan murmured. 

Anakin’s arms tightened convulsively at the sound of his voice before he lifted his head again. 

“I...dunno” he said hoarsely. “The last time I was able to keep track of time it’d been two days.” He swallowed convulsively and his eyes darted to the partially-concealed control panel. “I lost track when they upped my dosage.” He glanced at Obi-Wan. “They haven’t been injecting you as much as me...they think I’m more dangerous.” 

Obi-Wan paled.

“Two days” he muttered. 

“What kind of drug is this?” Anakin hissed, ignoring his previous comment. “I can’t...I can’t feel _anything_.”

“It’s a stimulant” Obi-Wan commented distractedly, scratching his nails over the knuckles of the opposite hand in a feverish manner. “Causes the body to release massive amounts of dopamine for an extended amount of time. I imagine this is the base layer of the strand in its entirety...and other formulas implant suggestive threads.” The Jedi Master clenched his fist and took a ragged breath. “Anakin...what did the Father ask of you on Mortis?”

The younger man flinched and gritted his teeth.

“The Father asked me to stay” he replied, lowering his head. “He told me he was dying, and that someone had to contain his children once he had passed on so the Force could remain in balance.I refused.” 

“That’s why Marishe hates you so much” Obi-Wan mused. “And-of course-me by association.”

“I’m sorry” Anakin said desperately. “I didn’t mean-”

He stopped as his former Master waved an impatient hand.

“It isn’t your fault” he said firmly. “We barely understood the base dealings of the Ones by the time we left...to ask you to forfeit the Order so you could guard two entities you barely knew anything about was a ridiculous notion.” He watched as the young man sagged with apparent relief. “Anakin...none of this is your fault, I wish you wouldn’t carry your burdens with you for so long without telling anyone. You might find that they’re not as heavy as you initially thought.” 

“Any thoughts on how we’re gonna escape?” Anakin queried, running a nervous tongue over his lips. “Cuz, Master, we’ve been fucked before but this is fucked on a whole new level.” 

Obi-Wan ignored the flagrant use of foul language in order to focus on the main question.

“Higii has to feed us at some point” he mused. “Does he deliver the injections?”

“Yeah” Anakin replied. “It’s always him.” 

“Good, maybe we can get him to talk.”

“Do you really think someone who chops up informants is going to feel bad about this whole situation just because we’re Jedi?”

“No” Obi-Wan said grimly. “But I want to learn more about where we are, and who all we’re dealing with. Higii doesn’t have to be sympathetic to let information slip.” 

“As long as he comes back soon” Anakin replied, drawing his knees back up and shivering slightly. “I can’t...I can’t deal with this anymore.”

Obi-Wan frowned.

“You want more of...whatever he’s giving us.”

The younger man scoffed.

“I don’t _want_ it” he said scornfully. “I _need_ it...I’m tired of feeling like shit and it makes me feel better.” He glanced at Obi-Wan. “You’ll understand...believe me...”

“Did you get in a fight with him?” the Jedi Master asked, nodding at his bruised knuckles.

Anakin followed the path of his gaze and snorted.

“Yeah...the first few times. It gets harder to resist after you’ve been conscious for administration.” He shook his head. “This whole situation just seems like overkill.”

Obi-Wan grimaced.

“We’re a threat...Marishe doesn’t like us and we’re Jedi. If there’s ever a moment where Higii feels lenient, it’s definitely not towards people like us.”

Anakin had opened his mouth to reply but closed it immediately when a loud buzzing sound echoed across the confined space. Obi-Wan’s instinctive response was to prepare for combat but he quickly realized this would be useless. He was chained to the wall without his lightsaber and he was entirely cut off from the Force. As a panel in the wall swung back to reveal the door to their cell, he resolved to be less impulsive and more cautious. Higii was the first to step through, his storm-cloud colored garb intrusive and somewhat suffocating in such a confined space. He was swiftly followed by his attendant, who was no less over-cloaked than before and who _really_ took up far too much of room. 

“I’m so happy to see you’re awake” Higii commented, smiling mischievously at Obi-Wan. “And not a moment too soon, really. It feels like we’ve been waiting for an age.”

“How long have we been here?” Obi-Wan queried, deciding that a less inquisitive question was probably a better way to gain social traction. 

“You don’t need to worry about things like _time_ and _duty_ anymore” the dealer purred. “I intend to put such worrisome matters as far from your psyche as humanly possible.” 

“We’ll always be Jedi” Anakin spat. “You can’t take that from us.”

“I can’t” Higii agreed, looking-if possible-even more smug. “But I _can_ use it against you.” He gestured to his attendant, who produced two thin syringes filled with a dark green substance. “I’m going to tell you what I told your partner” he said lazily. “You can fight it, but it’s going into your veins anyway whether you like it or not.” 

Another gesture and a brief scuffle ensued as Anakin and the attendant engaged in a sort of halfhearted struggle. It didn’t last long; especially when his former padawan’s head was slammed against the wall, and Higii strode over to push the bevel and shaft into his neck. The effect was practically immediate. The snarl on Anakin’s face melted into an expression of slack-jawed euphoria as his eyes rolled back and his fingers curled before relaxing completely. The hand that had been restraining the Attendant dropped to his side and went still. 

“You don’t have to do this” Obi-Wan said desperately. 

Higii rolled his eyes and leaned casually against the wall of the cell, fussing with a loose thread on his shirtsleeve. 

“Actually, I do” he said dryly. “You work for both the government and an ancient Order whose sole purpose is to wipe people like me or similar to me off the face of the Galaxy. By letting you go I’d put my entire enterprise in danger, not to mention those of my clients who would surely seek retribution should they be found out. It is-by _far_ -more dangerous to let you go than to keep you here. I’m a businessman, and my business has made me incredibly rich...rich and influential.” He gestured once more to his attendant who approached with the second syringe, smirking as Obi-Wan stiffened and gritted his teeth. “You can make this hard on yourself, or easy” he purred. Malicious eyes watched as he fought down another shiver. “Look at yourself, you can barely function without it...there’s no shame in letting go. My formula is forty times more potent than the strongest opiates on the black market...after all, it is made to crush even the strongest of men.” 

Obi-Wan fought because he felt obligated to, not necessarily because he wanted to. His body knew its limits and cues, and with relief so near...he could only act out so much in order to save face. His reticence cost him a split lip and possibly a minor concussion, but when the needle hit his skin he could at least tell himself he hadn’t offered himself up like a willing sacrifice. There was _no_ denying the pleasure that surged through his veins like fire afterwards, however. It wasn’t anything akin to physical gratification...though his limbs-admittedly-felt less itchy and far more relaxed. No, it was more of a mental pleasure...a boneless, euphoric sensation of fulfillment that seemed to rise from his very soul to explode across his psyche. It was as if every task he’d ever set out to do in his life had been accomplished all at once to a degree of perfection that left him reeling. Vaguely, as if from a great distance, he heard himself groan and felt his body turn into a pathetic puddle of drug-addled bliss...but he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered. It wasn’t until a few moments- _minutes....? Hours...? Did it matter anymore...?_ -later that a swift kick to his side yanked him back to awareness. Higii had knelt and was peering down at him with an unfathomable expression. Across the room, Anakin was slowly stirring, his gaze unfocused and confused.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Higii sneered. “How _far_ the righteous can fall when given the proper push? Even in the underworld you hear of the 'great deeds’ done by the Jedi Masters of Coruscant. Pirates fear you, smugglers go out of their way to avoid trade routes monitored by the Council....” he grasped Obi-Wan’s chin and jerked it forward roughly, his gaze burning a tangible hatred into his soul. “And yet...you’re only human without your lightsabers and your... _powers._ ” He spit derisively on the ground and rose to his feet. “We’re to try something new today...per the request of 'Rishe.” Seeing their exchange of confused glances, he chuckled. “Tsk tsk...did you _really_ think that I was going to let you sit here and rot your brains on my finest product until the end of days? Oh _no_.” The grin offered to them this time was possibly even more sinister than the last. “I intend to _break you thoroughly_...but first we have to soften you up, yes? So, ‘Rishe will be lifting the Force Inhibitor just enough to allow you to have your mental connection back.” He gestured, still smirking...and Obi-Wan felt the gentle press of Anakin’s mind against his like a balm against an open wound. Tentatively, the younger’s man’s psyche opened to him, and they ‘embraced’ briefly before withdrawing to their respective mental spheres. 

“Now” Higii said brusquely. “I’m fully aware of the fact that injuring one of you for the sake of that individual’s pain is absolutely pointless.” He drew a long, thin dagger from his cloak and nodded to the attendant. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as his shirt was ripped from his body and he was hauled to his feet; metal chains clamped over his wrists to pull him flat against the wall. “Therefore” the drug dealer continued. “I’ve given each of you a very special formula that allows you to _feel_ each other’s pain directly in tangent with yours.” 

“W-Wait” Anakin slurred, finally finding his voice. “You’re gonna torture us?”

“Not both of you” Higii replied conversationally. “Just your Master. You see, it’s much harder to watch the people you care about suffer for your misdeeds than to take a beating yourself.” 

He flicked his wrist and Obi-Wan grimaced as a long, thin line of scarlet appeared; spanning from his hip to his sternum. At the same moment, an _explosion_ of turmoil and agony rolled across from Anakin’s side of the bond and he gasped at the intensity of the emotions assaulting him. 

“You’re sick” the younger man snarled, his eyes wide. “You’re a fucking sick bastard-”

- ** _*thwack*_**

Obi-Wan wasn’t expecting the fist that hurtled across his jaw via the attendant, and he wasn’t able to roll with it properly. A coppery taste filled his mouth and he spat disgustedly as Higii laughed. 

“It’s alright Anak- _ugh!_ ” 

“It’s probably in your best interests not to speak” Higii drawled, tapping the red-ridden tip of the blade against the center of his palm. 

He paused, and Obi-Wan tensed, already bracing himself for what would happen. Higii knew how to inflict pain; how to establish a pattern and then break it when least expected. The next blow was aimed, choreographed by Higii but executed by the attendant, who caught him in his middle; upwards and to the right of his kidney. This time, he threw up and the pain bleeding across the Training Bond practically blinded him. In-between hits, he tried to rationalize Anakin’s distress as fear or perhaps concern...but it didn’t add up. The guilt pouring off of him was so thick it was sickening...his fear like a physical entity in the confined space. Yes, he’d known that Anakin was concerned with his welfare, that he considered Obi-Wan a true friend and confidant but this was _ridiculous_. It felt like his pain was tearing Anakin apart. Blow after blow, cut after cut and the pain he felt in his body had dulled but his former apprentice’s mind was _sobbing._ He tried to open his mouth to reassure him, to tell him that this was nothing...that he’d dealt with far worse but a precise strike to his temple had him reeling, his eyes rolling as he was half-knocked into unconsciousness. At this point, Higii paused and turned to his former padawan, a curious smirk on his face. 

“Shall I kill him?"

Obi-Wan gasped and shuddered as Anakin's shields broke like the destruction of a dam; the channel cementing their Bond lighting up with the roar of a thousand sandstorms as the entire facility trembled.

_“Take me!”_ Anakin yelled. _“This is my fault! Take me instead, **please** stop hurting him...please...!_.”

It was with a startling clarity that Obi-Wan realized that Anakin cared for him... _deeply_ cared for him. Anakin Skywalker didn’t beg. Indeed, he had never heard him beg for anything up until this point. It was both uplifting and heartbreaking all at once, because it had taken him being strung up like a spider and stuck like cattle to realize it. Higii snorted and glanced impatiently at the attendant.

“Another dose for the young one I think.” 

“N-no.” Anakin’s eyes widened as the black-shrouded figure shoved him against the wall, hands rising to guard against his torso in a pointless gesture. “No! No more! I can’t! I-!”

“You see” the dealer continued, returning his gaze to Obi-Wan, who refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing him defeated. “I know what breaks people.” He made as if to turn away then-faster that a serpent’s strike-executed an about-face and plunged his blade straight through the center of Obi-Wan’s palm. At the same moment, the dose Anakin had been administered activated in his veins and the younger man howled. Higii left the knife where it was and threw himself on the floor next to Anakin, grasping his neck and shoving his head back against the wall; forcing him to look into his eyes. “Tell me” he snarled. “Tell _us_ why you care so much about whether he lives or dies.”

“He’s my Master” Anakin gasped, eyes rolling from the effects of the layered dose.

“Liar” the dealer growled, jerking his arm roughly. He gestured again and Obi-Wan cursed as the attendant landed another blow. _“Tell us!”_

“I _love_ him!” Anakin cried, and the declaration seemed to have wrenched itself from the deepest, darkest part of his soul. The Bond flared with an agonizing nuance of shame and despair. “He’s all I’ve ever known! I know it’s forbidden but I c-can’t-I-” Abruptly, he started to seize and their psychic connection was washed ivory as his mind attempted to re-stabilize. Obi-Wan made to lunge across the room but received a blow to his spleen that left him gasping. “Obi-W-Wan...m’s-sorry....” 

Anakin whimpered, a runnel of blood dripped from the left side of his nose, and he hit the ground hard; his fingers twitching before he went utterly still. Higii kicked him idly, tilting his head like a bird of prey when he received no response. Rising, the dealer turned to Obi-Wan, his expression scornful. 

“For shame, Jedi” he sneered. “Not even noticing that your apprentice had failed one of the most intrinsic parts of the Code.” Obi-Wan swayed slightly, exhausted beyond the point of response. His heart ached for Anakin...for what Higii had made him confess against his will. “Do you know what’s even _better_ about all this?” the monster of a man chuckled. When he didn’t reply, the dealer turned and waved a hand. The wall to Obi-Wan’s left rose; revealing a high-definition camera and below it; the entire Jedi Council watching from a feedback-loop projection screen. “They saw _every, last, bit of it._ They don’t know where you are... and if I can help it, they never will. But I will enjoy every intrinsic, voyeuristic second of _destroying_ you for Her regardless.” 

Qui-Gon had told him that there came a point in every Jedi’s career when everything seemed lost. He’d been warned that he’d probably lose his sense of being in control, of having any semblance of clarity over his future. Obi-Wan was 100% sure that this was that time...so when he passed out, despite all the threats that were still before him, he couldn’t bring himself to take any of the blame. He was a Jedi, but he was still a man...

...and there’s really only so much a man can take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** _*takes a deep breath*_ I watch/read a lot of horror/psychological thrillers (American Horror Story is one of my favorite shows) so torture/gore scenes are very easy for me to write, but this was rough. The sole point of this chapter was so Obi-Wan could realize that Anakin really cares about him; on a level that violates the constraints of the Code...though not necessarily in a romantic way (yet). In my other fic(s?) I feel like Anakin's confessions come without duress, and it's just sort of _there_ ; so I wanted a story where they were kind of forced to face their feelings by extenuating circumstances. I want to apologize to those of you who this chapter sickened/alarmed/grossed-out; this is about as bad as it gets. Thank you for reading, and for your comments and kind words!
> 
> **R &R**


	5. Eggshells, Cream, and Parchment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> o_o NSFW o_o

Anakin wasn’t sure when he gave up. 

Maybe it was when he stopped begging for Obi-Wan’s life, resigned instead to endless apologies through their meager Forcebond... Maybe it was when he stopped resisting the needle whenever Higii came to administer another dose.... Maybe it was when he realized there was a very good chance he would never recover from this. Hours bled into days...and days perhaps bled into weeks. Their cell remained unchanged save for a myriad of bloodstains on the floor and the smell of copper in the air. He came to hate the canlight in the center of the room; whose glow soon became an unbearable retinal ache in the late hours of the night...when sleep evaded him like some misguided phantom hovering at the edges of his vision. Even breathing was an exacerbation of sensation; air caught in lungs that received too little filtered oxygen and not enough hydration. The grain of the floor would be forever embedded in his memory, of the way the silt caught in open wounds and rubbed the edges raw ‘till they wept a whitish mixture of leukocyte and plasma. When it came to the chain around his ankle, Anakin was fairly sure he would have a permanent scar; not necessarily from its placement, but from numerous collision scrapes whenever Higii decided it was time to string him up. 

Torturing Obi-Wan was only the beginning of what quickly turned into a round-the-clock nightmare. Once his former Master was battered to the brink or over the edge of unconsciousness; he’d be let down and allowed to rest while Anakin took his place. Despite that fact that they were both tortured to the same degree, Higii appeared to take less pleasure in torturing Anakin than he did Obi-Wan; probably because Obi-Wan didn’t react as violently to his partner’s pain. Oh, there was no denying that it hurt him...but he was capable of suppressing his discomfort so that it remained on a mental scale and never a physical one. To someone as visually sadistic as their captor, this did not make for upscale entertainment, and he made sure that Anakin’s sessions were far more painful as a result. Despite the fact that they were both sure to come out of the whole affair with countless scars, Higii avoided their faces and...more important areas....going as far as to absolutely lose his shit with the attendant when he accidentally kneed one of them in the groin area. The wounds he inflicted were superficial; made to cause pain but not to brutally maim. This, if anything, alarmed Anakin more than anything because it told him he was saving their physicality and aesthetics for something possibly far more sinister. 

When it came to food, they were provided with nutritional basics and nothing more. This often came in the form of an absolutely awful-tasting smoothie or a bowl of shapeless, colorless gruel. Such repasts came at no set interval of time, and they were often yanked from the depths of precious sleep in order to partake. If one of them was too high or too injured to eat, they were skipped over and often forced to miss the next meal as punishment. ‘Fresher access-thankfully-was never inhibited, and the attendant would usher them into a room that was equally as windowless and exit-less save for a toilet so they could relieve themselves. Unfortunately, such niceties did not extend to shower privileges but neither of them were cognizant or self-conscious enough to worry about being clean. They’d spent month upon month on dusty, muddy, and just plain disgusting missions that gave them no opportunity to wash; and it wasn’t really much of a loss. There were times, when the drugs ran low and Higii let the time between injections run long that Anakin wished he’d clean up the blood...but such thoughts faded quickly in the face of withdrawals. 

With the Council as witness, they were sure to receive some type of vindication at some point, but there was no telling when that time would come. It would have been different if the Senate wasn’t involved, but they would want to use them as leverage in order to ferry information between sources. More importantly, an offspring of the Ones was not likely to bow to anything less than total disclosure, and neither the Temple nor the Republic would give up their secrets or their resources without battling it out first. Because they were Jedi, their Fate was somewhat more valuable than that of the informants sent before them, but not by much. If they felt that Higii was gaining the upper-hand they would back out, and there was no telling what would befall them at that point. They’d trained for such scenarios, of course, but it was wholly different being in one versus walking through a monitored simulation. The stakes were higher and the price of their failure didn’t include a chance to try again. In the real world, second chances were nonexistent. 

_“...Ngh...”_

Whatever the surface beneath him was, it was _not_ the floor of the cell. Shifting slightly, Anakin ran his organic hand across fabric that was soft and springy, a stark contrast to the harsh duracrete he’d become so familiar with. Without opening his eyes, he could tell that the lights around him were considerably brighter and emitted some degree of warmth, though only enough to keep him from shivering. He was clean...that was discernible even without looking. His wounds felt old, as if they’d been rubbed with bacta and left to heal over the course of several days before he’d been dunked in a tub and scrubbed thoroughly. Even his _hair_ felt smooth against the back of his neck; like shimmersilk and sunlight. Licking his lips nervously, Anakin acknowledged that it had been several hours since he’d last been injected. Despite the overall sensation of comfort around him, his body was going through withdrawals to a degree that he’d had yet to encounter. Higii was unpredictable but thorough, and though he hadn’t kept them on a specific schedule, he never let them go long without drugging them. This was different. He felt hot and cold...itchy all over despite his obvious cleanliness and his head was pounding. 

Steeling himself, Anakin opened his eyes.

He was facing what appeared to be the wall of their cell...and yet it was different. Someone had draped yards of thick, gauzy fabric from floor to ceiling; concealing cold iron behind a wall of silken ivory. It appeared to gather at the center of the room where the can light would be; obscuring it from view and giving off the impression of being in a snow-colored circus tent. Beneath him-spanning the entirety of the space so that no floor was left bare-was a thick mattress comprised of memory foam; over which stretched a down-stuffed coverlet the same color as fabric on the walls. Behind all this on each wall-possibly attached by ensconced fixtures-were four strips of light that he was forced to assume were uvb lamps. They emitted a soft golden light that was neither overly warm nor overly bright, but enough to thoroughly illuminate the space and give it an ethereal glow. Anakin grimaced and rolled halfheartedly onto his other side and was met with the sight of a sleeping Obi-Wan. He’d been right to assume that he’d been cleaned; his former Master was veritably sparkling. 

He was also veritably naked save for a pair of loose tan pants.

Giving himself a perfunctory once-over, Anakin confirmed that he was in an identical state of undress. This-if anything-made him even more nervous and uncomfortable than before. Obi-Wan was sleeping on his side, with the arm underneath him pillowing his head and the other tossed carelessly out before him with his fingers splayed on the coverlet. As Anakin made to poke him a bit in order to get him to wake up, auburn eyelashes fluttered and he was met with bleary storm-colored eyes. He lay still and observed as the Jedi Master took a deep breath and lifted his head slightly so he could gather his bearings. Higii hadn’t been forgiving when it came to torture, and no amount of bacta could fully repair everything in such a short amount of time. As a result, Obi-Wan had several criss-crossing lines on his torso that were significantly paler than the rest of his skin, and even more on his arms. Anakin imagined that he must look much the same. Still, they didn’t hurt, and he supposed that was better than nothing. He’d been getting used to being in pain on a round-the-clock basis...but it was admittedly much better to feel like a human being again...at least for a little while.

“I don’t like this.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was hoarse from disuse, but his clipped Coruscanti accent expressed his grave disapproval of the situation magnificently. Anakin blinked, opening and closing his mouth several times before he remembered how to speak.

“S’weird” he muttered, shifting slightly before closing his eyes. “Wanna sleep.” 

“Anakin...we need to tal-”

His former Master stopped talking abruptly as the door to their cell swung open and the gauze was swept aside to reveal their captor, who was smirking conspiratorily. His gaze swept contemplatively between them for a moment before he folded his arms and raised a brow.

“How do you like your new accommodations?” he purred. “Though-admittedly-you’re in the same room...I’m sure you can tell that we’ve _upgraded_ quite a bit while you’ve been sleeping.”

“What is this?” Anakin snapped, trying to put as much venom behind his tone as possible. “You’re not doing this for us...you can’t fool us.”

Higii _*tsk*_ ’d and shook his head in mock consternation.

“Such distrust” he said in the tone of one grievously wounded. “You should be thanking me...though I suppose I shouldn’t have expected such gratuity from those as shortsighted as yourselves.” 

“Just...get on with it” the younger man muttered, dropping his shoulders. “I don’t want to hear your fucking psycho villain monologue.” 

The grin that spread across the dealer’s face was truly disturbing. Whatever he had planned for them...it couldn’t be good. 

“Very well” he drawled, reaching into his pocket and procuring two syringes. “Bottoms up...gentlemen.” 

Anakin sneered but didn’t fight as the needle punctured his skin. He’d long ago accepted the fact that struggling made things all the worse...and usually for Obi-Wan, not for him. He tried to tell himself that the cold fire spreading through his veins didn’t bring him any satisfaction, but it was such a pathetic lie at this point that he simply closed his eyes and lay back down. 

“Wha’s this one do?” he slurred. 

Higii chuckled, and he blinked blearily as he watched him step away from Obi-Wan. 

“I think I’ll leave this one as a surprise” he leered, already turning to exit. “I wish you both a very, _very_ , good evening.” He paused, as if suddenly remembering something and pulled a nondescript bottle out of his pocket and threw it on the floor. “Dear me, I almost forgot. I imagine you’ll need this. Oh...and should you attempt to resist the effects for too long I feel the need to caution you that you _will_ die.” 

The door to their cell shut and they were plunged into silence once more, save for the soft hum of the heat lamps. Rolling back onto his side, Anakin was surprised to see that Obi-Wan was already facing him, his expression contemplative despite the heavy-lidded set to his eyes that indicated he was feeling the effects of the dose just as much as he was. Gradually, Anakin was forced to acknowledge that every facet of his nervous system was becoming supercharged. He could see tiny white dust motes floating down from the gauzy ‘curtains’; specks of glittering ivory caught in the suddenly intense light of the lamps. The fabric under them was still soft but it was _so soft_ now...it was like lying on a cloud, if such a thing was even possible. His body felt like it was submerged in a warm, glowing cocoon of comforting heat that whispered over his body in sweet, decadent waves. Obi-Wan’s soft, gentle intake of breath was abruptly distracting...like the hush of sea against shore in a wash of foam and salt, an endless tide of whispering continuity. He could _see_ every single freckle on the pale skin across from him-not pale, more _eggshell_ or _cream and parchment_ though fuck knows he’d never thought of skin that way before. 

Obi-Wan’s hair was a marvel of millions of individual fiery threads that followed no distinct pattern; their colors shifting every time he moved even a little bit. Anakin could see orange, yellow, and red in his beard...like flames from a bonfire twined together in a truly incredible nuance of synchronicity. The slope of his jaw was fascinating...like the strong apex-curve of a mountain cliff...strong yet permeable by time and weather. His lips reminded him of the inside of a seashell that had been left in the sun; cerise mixed with a hint of residual moisture...soft and malleable yet expressive and inquisitive. Anakin had always loved his eyebrows...though he hadn’t ever been sure why until now. They were emotional and arched, shaped like sketch-lines that flowed smoothly whenever he spoke, a master conversationalist with his visage alone yet somehow perfect even while silent. And his _eyes..._! Anakin shivered unconsciously at the shimmering grey of his eyes; multifaceted, depthless and incurably irresistible...like gazing into the brightest of stars overshadowed by smoky nebula. 

“Anakin...would you kindly _be quiet?!_ ” The younger man paused, then winced as he realized he’d been observing both mentally and verbally. Obi-Wan was blushing like a schoolgirl, one hand rising to partially cover his face. It was a beautiful hand...large but slender-fingered with nails like crescent moons and buttermilk. “S-stop it, now really...what’s gotten into you? What are you _doing?!”_

Against his better judgement, Anakin took the object of his fascination and gently laced their fingers together; shuddering as the sensation of skin on skin sent fireworks across his palm...his mouth dropping open slightly. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat and he was all-too-aware of the tremor that ran through him. Lifting their entwined fingers, Anakin slowly bent his head over the inside of his former Master’s wrist...across delicate bluish veins as the musk that was so familiarly _Obi-Wan_ left a dizzying imprint on his synapses. Rising once more, he froze as their eyes met, the emotional transfer between them overwhelming...enough to give him pause. Abruptly, he dropped Obi-Wan’s hand, trying to backpedal only to be immediately distracted by the softness of the mattress. The feeling of being sensationally overwhelmed intensified and he groaned, digging his fingers into the fabric and closing his eyes. Apparently displeased by the distance between them, Obi-Wan shifted closer, ‘till his breath ghosted across Anakin’s face...forcing him to open his eyes. 

“Your eyelashes are extremely long” the older man muttered, squinting slightly. “Did you know?” 

No...no. No. That was _not_ fair. Anakin tried to distance himself again but lost the battle, dragging a trembling palm across a freckle-dusted shoulder. 

“ _Kriff_ , your skin’s soft” he slurred, fanning his fingers out. 

The moan that fell from Obi-Wan’s mouth was beautiful...like chocolate vibrating against his ears. The hand he’d so recently held cupped his cheek, thumb swiping down his jaw and the whimper that left him was entirely involuntary. It felt like his nerve-endings were on fire...like he was going to explode into a mess of...of _something_ at any moment. Leaving the shoulder behind somewhat regretfully, Anakin watched with a kind of disbelieving fascination as his index finger traced a path down Obi-Wan’s arm, feeling muscle twitch beneath his touch. The hand on his face ascended to thread through his hair, catching strands between fingers and rubbing lightly...sparks fell thick and fast against his scalp. 

“W-wait” Obi-Wan gasped, stiffening. “Anakin-this isn’t-this-the _drug_...it’s... _mmm_.” Anakin watched with a sort of detached fascination as the older man leaned into his touch before yanking himself back. “Stop! We need to talk about this.” 

Anakin scrunched his eyes shut and tried to recite the twenty one maxims, petering out somewhere around number ten when a warm; heavy hand gently trailed feather-light down his side. There was no denying that this felt...good. His brain refused to think ahead to where it could be leading, but his body was warm and comfortable and he’d had so precious _little_ of that for Sith knows how long. Obi-Wan appeared to be struggling just as much as he was....though he still seemed to be maintaining some power of logic, how long it would last he didn’t know. 

“ _Hmmm_...love you” he murmured, reciprocating the touch and watching as Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered slightly. “ _Love_ you...need you.” 

They met somewhere in the middle. Looking back on that moment, Anakin couldn’t really say which one of them moved first, only that the shock of his hands on that soft, soft flesh was _electric._ The drug was surging through his veins, undoubtedly, and he was so fucking high he could barely form coherent thought but it felt _right._ The palm that flattened on his chest was solid, hot like a brand yet familiar in all the ways that defined the man he’d once called ‘Master.’ Likewise, the strands of auburn hair that tangled around his fingers still held that coarse, undeniably masculine texture that was intrinsically Obi-Wan...and yet it was _soft_...vibrating with artistry and virility. He was accosted with the desire to touch, to taste, to _consume_ and be consumed. The ache that rose in his chest was foreign...it was an itch he didn’t know how to scratch, a need he didn’t know how to fulfill. And yet, when Obi-Wan’s arms and legs tangled with his own, when he pressed his open mouth against the hollow at the base of his Master’s throat, he felt _full_ and yet not full enough. 

Anakin moaned and threw his head back as warm fingers traced the length of his spine, a hot mouth descending from the lobe of his ear to trace the contour of his jaw. Whatever reticence Obi-Wan had displayed initially was gone; doused by the burning need Higii’s drug had injected into their veins. At the thought of the man Anakin tried to pull away but ended up simply flopping onto his back as Obi-Wan crawled over him; settling his full weight on top as the younger man gasped and let his legs fall to the side. Anakin let his hands wander the glorious expanse of Obi-Wan’s chest, over the fine but subtle lines of his pecs down to his belly button while he captured that pale pulse-point with his lips; sucking hungrily before biting down hard enough to bruise. The groan he received in response was utterly filthy, tinged with an unfathomable desperation that gave its end a ragged lilt. 

At this point, Marishe must have decided to reopen their Bond. 

Obi-Wan’s emotions came _screaming_ across their psychic link unhindered; and the collision of their thoughts combined with his addled state was almost unbearable. A whine from his partner told him that he was not alone in his over-stimulation, though it didn’t make him feel much better. Obi-Wan’s mind was a mess of _want_ and guilt and shame, aroused to the brink of coherency...no more able to stop whatever was happening than he was able to stop the rise of the tide. More prominent than any of this was the staggering amount of affection and _love_ pouring its way into Anakin’s mind. High out of his mind and half-mad with lust and the man was _still_ trying to reassure Anakin...trying to assure him that no matter what happened between them that he would always love him. The thought brought him up short, and in that flash of clarity he realized he was achingly _hard_ and he wanted so much more than what they were doing for reasons entirely separate from the narcotic running through them. He loved Obi-Wan, he was _in_ love with Obi-Wan and this was _not_ how he’d wanted to come to such a realization but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

Instead, as he bucked his hips desperately and clutched at the lithe hips grinding into his pelvis he did his best to communicate that he _wanted_ this...wanted it on a more complex level than base instinct and inebriation. The reaction to his declaration was a pained whimper; grey eyes rising to meet his with an expression of hopeful incredulity.

“Kiss me” Obi-Wan gasped. 

Anakin swallowed thickly.

“I-”

“-Kiss me!” Hot lips hovered over his own as their link was flooded with a nonverbal plea for proof. _“Show me.”_

It wasn’t anything like the kiss he’d shared with Padme. It was hard, desperate and unyielding, a clash of mouth and teeth and the need to _devour_ but it was so much _better._ Obi-Wan’s lips were an ambrosia wrought in the deepest, blackest of desires he’d garnered in the wee hours of exhausted mornings running on little to no sleep. They were dust and passion in its most raw and honest form; like the light from an exploding supernova issued through open mouths and heaving lungs. Their movements slowed fractionally as they were anchored by simplistic action, trembling on the precipice of oblivion as their feelings were cemented in a single instant. Then-as abruptly as it had come-the moment was broken and Anakin plunged his tongue into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s mouth; groaning headily as it was met with equal fervor. Kriff, and the drug made him feel _everything_...the heat and moisture, the tug of teeth against his bottom lip and their increasingly labored breaths when they stopped to catch air. 

Soon though, the temptation of touching elsewhere was far too strong to resist. Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s erection pressing against his thigh and the mere _idea_ that it was so real and solid was nearly enough to send him over the edge. Those warm, lips left his to lave the column of his throat, marching down across his clavicle and down his sternum before moving to the side and taking a nipple into his mouth. Each suck, each flick of the tongue sent a zinging electric bolt down to his groin...had him grasping the soft coverlets to arch into that touch while he palmed Obi-Wan’s backside almost unconsciously. His mind was a mess of need, of wanting more than simply touch. He wanted to crawl inside Obi-Wan and wrap their souls around each other ‘till he couldn’t tell them apart anymore. 

“P-please” he said raggedly. “N-need you. Need more.” 

Obi-Wan, who had been nipping at the flushed skin of his hip, paused and appeared to be attempting to process what he’d said. With a muffled curse, he threw himself off Anakin and began to fumble blindly in the coverlets. The sudden distance was absolutely unacceptable to the younger man, who moaned and sat up, tugging his leggings down mindlessly so he could grasp his aching erection in his fist. His fingers were soon batted away to be replaced by Obi-Wan’s, who had evidently found what he was looking for, and he groaned as he watched those long, firm fingers swipe over the head of his cock perfunctorily before setting a steady rhythm. The other hand hiked up his legs before procuring the bottle Higii had tossed at them earlier...his former Master divesting himself of his own garments as he poured what Anakin now understood to be a lubricant onto the tips of his fingers.

“I don’t want to hurt you” Obi-Wan said raggedly, his breath stuttering as Anakin lunged upwards to drag trembling fingertips over his need. “W-we need to slow down a bit...Ani- _ah!_ -or this is going to...” 

He abruptly trailed off, as if unable to maintain conversation in favor of physical concentration. Anakin was far too distracted by the view of his hand stroking his Master’s cock to really pay attention anymore. Abruptly, a cold finger pressed against a part of him he’d never really considered intrinsic to sex. There was a brief, panicked sensation of fear and uncertainty before hot lips closed over his own and he was swept away again. He wanted to _swallow_ that wicked, wicked tongue that was hitting all the right places, flicking against his own before diving downwards in a rough thrusting motion. The chill provided by the lube quickly warmed, accompanied by the still non-intrusive pressure of Obi-Wan’s fingers...setting off a small storm of fireworks in his belly. 

The first finger felt weird.

It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. Anakin exhaled shakily, turning his head to the side and concentrating on the feeling of the hand on his erection. In this-at least-Obi-Wan seemed able to take things with a degree of caution, though the trembling in his limbs told him that it was costing him immensely to do so. Another finger and it hurt a bit, though this was quickly replaced with a sensation of being stretched and filled. Gentle digits crooked slightly, up and backwards to the center of his groin and a thick, heavy warmth exploded across his synapses; lighting up nerve endings as the desperate, needy supplication that fell from his lips sounded muted and far away. Obi-Wan didn’t linger, teasing him only twice more before moving on to stretch him more fully, his breath coming short through his nose as Anakin came undone beneath him. It took four fingers for him to realize that he wanted this so badly he was fairly sure he was going to die without it. Of course, Higii had pretty much said they were gonna kick the bucket if they didn’t, but Anakin was starving for gratification. He could still feel the drug in his system...in the way his limbs throbbed and his head spun but there was a deeper, more emotional aspect to their actions that he couldn’t rationalize based on pure lust alone. 

Then, the fingers withdrew and a feeling of emptiness he could only associate with loss had him pulling the man over him; acquiescing to the hands hooked under his knees as that delicious weight settled against him. The sensation of Obi-Wan’s cock pressing against his ass was indescribable. It was tentative, anticipatory and foreign but he _wanted_ it. And when the older man showed signs of hesitance, Anakin rose up on his elbows to arch into the intrusion, baring his throat as his head fell back and a gratified groan fell from his lips. 

_“Fuuucck”_.

“L-language, Anakin” Obi-Wan huffed, and the younger man snorted; drawing them close for a deep searching kiss before flexing his hips experimentally. 

Yes, there was pain...but nothing on the scale of what they’d been subjected to over the last few days. He unconsciously acknowledged the physical warmth of Obi-Wan’s length, of how the feeling of needing to be filled had lessened somewhat with their actions...bringing instead a low, humming thread of satisfaction that had his toes curling. Both remained still for a moment, adjusting to varying degrees of simulation and sensation. Tentatively, Anakin wrapped a hand around Obi-Wan’s neck, bringing him down so their foreheads touched. Those grey eyes were a storm of emotion, searing through his soul in a way that left him feeling naked on a psychic and physical level. His former Master reciprocated by carding an unsteady hand through his hair before taking his mechanical hand and twining their fingers together on top of Anakin’s chest. When they did move, it was out of an unspoken agreement to continue; a soft whisper across the nuances of the Bond that shattered the moment with all the delicacy of a cloud breaking apart over the surface of the sun.

Obi-Wan thrust deep, hips arcing as Anakin bit down on his thumb...trying and failing to suppress the gasp that was wrenched from his throat. It was _good_. It was better than good. The thought flitted through his head that Higii would have found a way to have the entire Council watching, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Every limb in his body felt like it was on fire, blazing into an existential eternity that should bring the universe to its knees. He accepted Obi-Wan’s kisses eagerly, opening his mouth and moaning, his eyes fluttering at a particularly wicked thrust as he brought his legs up and around his waist; hooking them at the base of his spine. Their Bond was alight with emotion, a roil of endless half-formed supplications and phrases that were strung together in a meaningless bundle. 

“Harder” Anakin moaned against Obi-Wan’s lips. “ _Ngh_ - _harder_ please.” 

His request seemed to spur his partner on, and the next thrust hit that sweet spot with incredible precision; causing him to arch upwards...undulating wantonly into the movement, his body accepting the intrusion hungrily. The drug was a constant freezing undertone to their lovemaking, searing through cognizance like liquid fire. Every bone in his body was saturated in rapture, rising like the swell of a wave to batter the walls of his psyche. 

“Anakin” Obi-Wan breathed, his voice shaking...fingers tightening on his hips. “Ani- _ah_ -you feel so...I’m so s-sorry.” 

“D-don’t” the younger man pleaded. “S’good, s’so good...I l-love you... _wanted_ you.” 

The sob that fell from his former Master’s lips seemed involuntary. Anakin felt a rush of panic and confusion, even as his orgasm threatened to undo him; his skin suddenly feeling too tight-too confined as the muscles in his abdomen seized; his cock swelling as it brushed against Obi-Wan’s stomach. 

“Let go” the older man murmured, taking both his hands and lifting them above his head. The rhythm was adjusted slightly, his movements becoming long, slow, and deep. Hot lips closed over his own as Anakin cried out, his eyes rolling back as cum suffused the skin between them. A near-unbearable buzzing spread outwards from his head to his toes as he mouthed wordlessly, fingers scrabbling in the coverlets as he seized. “Oh, love.”

His climax appeared to herald the end of Obi-Wan’s endurance, and his breath caught as the searing warmth of his orgasm filled him; their breath intermingling as the Bond blazed with emotion. The older man drove deep and let out a long, low groan that dissolved into a gasping cry...hips pistoning as he spent himself. They lay there for a long while afterwards; throbbing with aftershocks as they caught their breath and attempted to ground themselves.

_“Hnnn...so good”_ Anakin slurred, shifting slightly. 

The body on top of him stiffened; languorous relief replaced by instant tension. Those fingers carded through his hair once, and the kiss that slanted across his mouth was brief but tender. He grimaced in discomfort as Obi-Wan rolled off and to the side, warmth spreading down his thighs as he mimicked the action and they lay facing each other. His former Master’s eyes were a tumult of emotion, and his signature along the Bond was emotionally exhausted...frayed yet aloof. Not wanting to be physically separated after such an intimate experience, Anakin dragged himself through the space between them to curl into the older man’s chest, hitching a leg over his thigh and wrapping an arm around his waist. Obi-Wan tensed but acquiesced, going as far to reciprocate the action in its entirety. There were a few minutes of silence between them, and Anakin was acutely aware of the drug wearing off...leaving them spent and sticky but not entirely uncomfortable. 

“I’m so sorry Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was suffused with grief, hoarse from their bout with passion and tremulous with self-loathing. Anakin sighed and let the fingers of the hand over his former Master’s shoulder splay wide before rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back. 

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not” was the aggrieved reply. “I...I _took_ you...I mean, I assume that wasn’t your first time but I still took advantage of you.”

Anakin huffed impatiently.

“It was the drug, for both of us” he muttered. “And that was my first time, with anyone.”

This was-if anything-the worst possible thing to say. The Bond flared white with Obi-Wan’s guilt and regret, and Anakin became acutely aware of the hot pinprick of tears on his shoulder.

“Oh, Anakin. I can’t-this-” the Jedi Master broke off, his voice thick with emotion. 

“Hey, hey” the younger man murmured, pulling back slightly and cupping that familiar auburn beard. “I wouldn’t have wanted this with anyone but you.”

“But you...don’t you like...I mean, with Padme-” 

“-You thought that I like chicks” Anakin supplemented, and the gentle flush of red over Obi-Wan’s ears was enough of an answer. “Hell, what century are you living in? I think everyone is hot.” 

His former Master snorted.

“That’s...not comforting.” 

Anakin rolled his eyes.

“I mean that I don’t really think about gender when I find someone attractive” he replied. “I mean, yeah, you’re sexy as kriff but it’s not 'cause you’re a man...it’s because you’re you. I love you.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that” was the desolate reply.

“Yeah, well, I can’t take it back now so I might as well keep saying it. If you don’t love me, that’s fine, but I’m happy that my first time was with someone I love.”

Both of them fell silent, and Anakin focused his attention on memorizing the feel of Obi-Wan’s skin against his. If they got out of this alive, he doubted he’d ever get to do this again. He’d just started drifting off when the the older man shifted, drawing him up for another kiss, this one deeper then the last. He responded automatically, opening his mouth and giving himself up, eyelids fluttering with lack of sleep and the slight reawakening of arousal.

“For the record” Obi-Wan murmured when they broke apart. “I never said I didn’t love you.” 

Anakin smiled, a bit sadly. 

“Yeah, I know.” 

His former Master looked away.

“But...I can’t say it...I’m sorry” he said desperately. “The Code is the only thing keeping me alive right now, and if I let go of my morals in the face of...all this...

“...I don’t know if I’ll be able to go on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N** : Poor Obi-Wan. He feels so incredibly guilty over all of this. Hm, so, I don't normally do sex scenes so early in my stories, but this was a fuck or die, and the plot sort of burgeons out afterwards. Again, this was supposed to be a oneshot but it turned into a woolly mammoth. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> **R &R**


	6. Cerulean Sunflowers

Obi-Wan was disgusted with himself. 

Lying on that Sith-be-damned coverlet, feeling Anakin’s soft breath against the crook of his neck, limbs entwined and pliant in the depths of sleep...he acknowledged that he had probably hit rock bottom. Taking a deep breath, he tried vainly to suppress the grief that was constantly threatening to make him dissolve into tears. Making love to Anakin had been so intimate, he doubted he would ever have such a deeply profound sexual encounter again. As much as he would have liked to have dismiss it as meaningless sex, he couldn’t even wander into that vein of apathetic thought without feeling physically sick. The sensation of being inside him, the flush of his skin and the immense pleasure and peace he’d found in his body outmatched all forms of meditation he’d ever attempted. His orgasm could only be described as feeling like he had died just to be born again, over and over. For someone who had never had sex before, Anakin had responded with unerring precision...and he supposed that really didn’t surprise him. For someone who excelled at everything he tried, it wasn’t exactly a miracle that he was equally efficient in bed. 

Staring at the gauzy canopy above them, Obi-Wan acknowledged that Higii was masterful in his purpose. He’d gotten them hooked on a substance that was probably wreaking absolute havoc on their bodies; each dose was harder and harder to resist, and their tolerance of time without it was gradually waning. He dreaded to think what would happen when their dependency called for even stronger portions. Too much of anything was bound to kill them, and he was almost certain that was what Higii was aiming for. If they did escape or get rescued, the Council knew nothing of an antidote, and the withdrawals were bad enough that Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if they’d survive detox. Even now, tremors were running through Anakin’s body while he slept, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before Higii returned. He was able to suppress his symptoms due to over a decade’s worth more of experience...but he wasn’t blind to the gravity of their situation. 

Breaking his vows was something Obi-Wan could deal with; he’d done it before and he’d probably do it again. No, it was the simple fact that he’d dragged his comrade-in-arms, his _former padawan_ down with him. Yes, Anakin had his own demons, and yes, he knew that there were exceptions to violations of the Code...but he couldn’t rectify the fact that Anakin loved him. He knew he wasn’t lying, and that was probably what upset him the most. Not because his feelings weren’t returned, but because he had vowed never to drag someone down in romanticism like he had Qui-Gon. His former Master had always been a wild card, and Obi-Wan had adored him for it...almost to the point of obsession. Qui-Gon had known it, and kept him at arms length, but still harbored feelings for him nevertheless. During their battle with Maul, he’d opted to fight the Sith apprentice alone because he wanted to protect Obi-Wan...and his love for him had been his undoing. It was only when he was dying that he confessed that he felt the same for Obi-Wan all along, and it had very nearly caused his fall to the Dark Side. He’d spent months mourning something that had never been, but that _could_ have been, and then he’d spent months being unbearably angry at his former Master for pushing him away. 

Anakin had saved him.

Obi-Wan had not been thrilled to receive a padawan so soon after such a tragedy, but he’d borne it as best he’d could. He saw the same reckless motivation that he’d seen in himself in his charge, saw how Anakin was practically driving himself into the ground to please him and it _terrified_ him. He crumbled in the face of a young boy’s determination and it was only through the intervention of the Council that he hadn’t left the Order and adopted Anakin as his own. There had been times when he wondered if that would have been the better choice; if Anakin calling him _‘Dad’_ rather than _‘Master’_ would have made their Fate kinder and happier. Then there were moments when he was older that he’d catch himself staring at the way the light caught Anakin’s hair, at the curve of his lips and he’d be extremely _glad_ he hadn’t made that decision. Obi-Wan knew he was attracted to men, and it wasn’t something that had particularly bothered him. He’d chalked up his appreciation of Anakin’s aesthetics to exactly that...appreciation. He loved Anakin, he loved spending time with him and working with him in the field, he loved his personality and his view of the world but he was not _in_ love with him....

...Or so he told himself.

Obi-Wan felt his eyes growing heavy as exhaustion and withdrawals threatened to strip him of conscious thought. It took only one encounter to shatter his misconceptions of emotionalism. He was in love with Anakin Skywalker, and Anakin Skywalker was in love with him...now he had to decide what to do about it. The aforementioned man shifted and mumbled something, his body shifting against his as he instinctively sought out warmth. Obi-Wan shivered and closed his eyes, letting his fingers drag across smooth skin as the door to the cell creaked open. Higii didn’t say a word this time, preferring to observe them with an unfathomable expression as he drew the now-familiar syringes out of his pocket. If he didn’t know better, he would guess that the man was feeling remorse, but his face was calculating...not contrite. The pinch of the needle was now a welcome feeling...a perverse reaction to anticipatory satisfaction. Anakin woke with a quiet moan when Higii moved onto him but quickly quieted as the serum was administered. Their captor exited as quickly as he had come, and Obi-Wan was left to contemplate this new approach as the door swung shut behind him. 

He was distracted as long fingers flexed against his back, as Anakin stirred and lifted his head...his eyes fluttering slightly from the effects of the drug, pupils blown wide. Unthinkingly, Obi-Wan dipped his chin to capture those lips, shuddering as his actions were reciprocated lazily. A sort of addled petting ensued, with hands wandering and mouths exploring but not increasing to anything noteworthy. Anakin was half-hard against his thigh but Obi-Wan could sense that he wasn’t particularly interested in escalating things. 

“I kinda wish he’d just kill us” Anakin commented when they broke apart, his voice slightly garbled.

Obi-Wan swallowed and forced the icy fear that rose in his chest to the side.

“It’s not out of the cards yet” he replied mildly. An unfocused, slightly hysterical laugh was his only response. “I’m sorry Anakin.”

“Yeah, y’keep saying that” the younger man slurred. “I really don’t blame you.” 

“You should.”

Anakin sighed as his head lolled to the side.

“Why? Cause you couldn’t rescue me? If that’s the way we’re taking this conversation then it’s me who should be feeling guilty because I rescue you way more.” 

“Don’t talk rubbish.”

“Fuck, Obi-Wan. I’m so goddamn tired...I...don’t wanna argue with you. M’warm, comfortable and mostly clean and not in pain. That’s probably not gonna last much longer so...” 

He trailed off, his eyes rolling back slightly. Obi-Wan sighed and carded his hand through a wealth of golden hair. Inwardly, he acknowledged that this dose was much higher than previous ones; his tongue felt thick and heavy and there was an ongoing sensation of his limbs melting into the floor. Anakin had been on the receiving end of their lovemaking and thus was far more physically exhausted, but even he was feeling the effects of it now. He didn’t _want_ this, didn’t want to be compliant and boneless in the face of so much tyranny but it was like being caught in a nightmarish loop...and these single precious hours lying with Anakin were all they had. Shuddering, he closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep, fading into the effects of Corellian Moodust. When he next regained consciousness the entirety of the Jedi Council was bursting into their cell, Mace was trying to shake him awake and Anakin was cold and unresponsive at his side.

____________________________________________________________________________________

In the end, the Council acted against the wishes of the Senate.

They’d been expressly ordered to keep away from Corellia, but Luminara, Quinlan, and Kit had evidently thrown such a massive fit that even Yoda bowed to the magnitude of their rage. Assembling a squadron of two-hundred Storm Troopers, the female Jedi Master had led the rest of her colleagues into a direct assault of Higii’s matrix of hideouts. The dealer and his few accomplices hadn’t stood a chance. Higii’s inner circle was small-one of the main reasons he’d been so hard to catch-but it also made him incredibly vulnerable should his location be ascertained. His live feed into the Council Chambers had been his weak link; with Master Vos hacking the signal and triangulating his position. Surprisingly, he hadn’t moved them far from the warehouse where they’d made their grave miscalculation. His base was at the Easternmost edge of the district, with a fairly solid escape point but the Jedi never let him get that far. It was-from the sound of it-quite an impressive endeavor. Kit had thrown Higii through three square layers of duracrete, where he’d then tried to escape only to meet his end at the tip of Mace's lightsaber.

The facility was scoured, every bit of contraband confiscated and the labs destroyed. Higii’s contacts were rooted out of various areas and brought back to Coruscant on separate ships and his attendant had died defending him. Unfortunately, Marishe was nowhere to be found and she had neglected to be present in any of the video feeds. She was, veritably, in the wind and there wasn’t anything the Council could go on to try and locate her. Luminara had visited Lirres’ establishment only to come back empty-handed. The man was running an upscale, fairly honest facility and insisted he hadn’t seen the Daughter’s daughter in several weeks. Whatever their concerns over her ability to compromise the Order, they were forced to turn their attentions to more imminent tasks. 

Anakin had overdosed. 

Obi-Wan cursed himself for not recognizing the symptoms, but he’d been riding a continuous high and would have probably told the Chancellor the sky was pink with orange polka dots if Higii had told him to. By the time Vos and Luminara were able to drag them back to a shuttle he had coded four times and was turning blue. Obi-Wan tried to stay close to him, but he himself was barely conscious and had already vomited once due to withdrawals. Having procured the entirety of Higii’s supply, he was allowed a dose and put in a bedroom on one of the transport pods. He vaguely remembered Mace coming in to try and talk to him, but he could barely form coherent sentences and soon lost consciousness. The next time he woke up, they were well on their way back to Coruscant and Luminara was sitting by his bed, apparently meditating.

The bedroom was small and nondescript, with a low-lying cot and an iron bedtable with a chronometer on it. The walls were a silvery chrome-standard for basic space-faring vessels-and a small port window gave him a view of the stars outside the shuttle. He’d been dressed in his standard Jedi garb, but the fabric felt foreign and strange, especially after spending hours upon hours barely dressed or completely naked. The Moondust was still in his system, enough that he didn’t feel like crawling out of his skin but not enough that he felt even remotely okay. Even more prominent than this was the fact that he could feel the Force again, he could feel Anakin faintly across the Bond, and this, if anything, made him relax. When Luminara noticed he was awake she was almost instantly alert, extending a hand-possibly to comfort him-but retracting it immediately when he tensed and retreated. It was an instinctual reaction after weeks of torture, and he couldn’t really help it. 

“It’s good to see you awake” Luminara said quietly. 

“How long?” he whispered. 

His fellow Master smoothed her skirts.

“We’re about four hours out from Cor-”

“-No” he said sharply. “How _long_???” 

“...It’s been about a month.” 

He took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes, running trembling fingers through his hair. 

“I see, thank you.” 

“You should know that Higii Nor is dead.”

Obi-Wan paused and tried to rationalize his feelings. On one hand, he was glad of the fact, because it meant that the man couldn’t torture them anymore. On the other hand...

“Death was too kind for him” he said bitterly.

It was a harsh statement, to be sure, one that the Council certainly wouldn’t approve of, but Luminara seemed to understand. 

“I’m sorry about what he did to you. Both of you.”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter, we’re Jedi. We trained for situations like this...we’ll get past it.”

“I’ve been told to remind you that the Temple has mind healers at your disposal, whenever you need it. The first two weeks are mandatory but after that...it’s up to you.” 

Obi-Wan fought down a grimace at her statement. He’d never liked therapy. Reliving a situation in order to identify the emotional cause had never done him any favors. Still, it was Temple protocol, and he couldn’t really say no to it. 

“Is Anakin alright?”

At this, Luminara looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“He’s...stable. We had a few close calls after you fell asleep, but he’s alright now.” 

“May I see him?”

His fellow Master sighed and looked away.

“They...they’ve issued an order for the two of you to be separated” she murmured. Catching his distraught expression, she looked sincerely regretful. “Obi-Wan, I’m sorry, but Yoda and Mace won’t change their minds. You...you had... _relations_ with each other in full view of the Council. They’re afraid you’ll become attached if you spend too much time in each other’s company.” 

“Yes, well, I’m afraid it’s far too late for that” Obi-Wan said bitterly.

“You’re both being confined to the medical ward on your return, in separate wings” Luminara continued. “None of us know how this drug will leave your system, or how it’s affecting you now. We can do a full scan upon your return but the best we can do now is to keep you stable.”

She fell silent after that, though Obi-Wan sensed there was more she’d been ordered to say or do. He let it go on for a while before speaking.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yes” Luminara whispered. “I’ve been ordered to aid you in severing your Bond with Anakin.” 

It was-Obi-Wan reflected-somewhat ironic. He didn’t think he and Anakin could get any closer than they were now...they’d reached the peak of their relationship only to be forced apart. The training bond couldn’t really be called that anymore...it was an intimate coalescence of their Signatures that only came from taking a lover who was also Force-Sensitive. Even Jedi sent to Agri-Corps who formed romantic relationships with fellow castoffs hardly ever developed strong mental bonds. The fact that he and Anakin had after a single encounter spoke volumes to the depth of their feelings for each other. To the Council it screamed _attachment_ , and in all honesty, that was exactly what it was. A part of him rejected the idea of tossing away something so rare and precious...but the Jedi in him was indescribably horrified by how far he had fallen. 

Adversely, he was indescribably uncomfortable about severing the Bond without talking to Anakin first. He knew it would hurt his feelings, even if he did pass it off as obligatory duty once his head had cleared. Obi-Wan had had a handful of experiences before fucking his former padawan, but they’d been nameless, nearly faceless encounters that hadn’t left any sort lasting emotional damage. He was incredibly perturbed by the fact that the Council would condone such a separation without the consent of both parties. Of course, this probably meant that they understood how deep their connection ran, and wanted to stop it before it went any further, but that didn’t make his decision any easier. 

“I...I can try” Obi-Wan said hoarsely. “But...I don’t know if I can.” 

Wordlessly, with an expression that spoke of nothing but sympathy, Luminara proffered her hands. He took them hesitantly, fingers shaking now from the affects of withdrawal. It was strange, to be touched by someone that wasn’t Higii, his attendant, or Anakin. And when his fellow Master gently nudged against his mind he almost threw her right back out again. Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and opened his mind, letting his Guide draw up along side him before plunging downwards into his psyche towards the Bond. Even in his tired, exhausted, state...he was staggered by how blindingly beautiful it was. Anakin’s Signature had always been a bright golden color; like the light from the suns on Tattooine. Adversely, his was a soft, somnolent blue that he’d always thought was very boring but Anakin insisted it was the most soothing, restful Signature in the whole wide Galaxy. Their Bond was a shimmering braid of cerulean-sunflower...floating softly between their combined consciousnesses as they approached. 

Steeling himself, Obi-Wan reached forward to begin the process only to be hit with an incredible rush of affection from Anakin. Despite being unconscious, his portion of their Signature still recognized him. A thread from the braid reached outwards to pull him in; honey-colored light surrounding him in a cheerful, warm, and familiar gesture. Luminara whispered a warning and he attempted to resist, but his mind was having none of it. Even as he attempted to unravel their combined psyches, the amount of pain that his actions were causing was nearly enough to pull him out of his meditative trance. Snippets of his memories of time with his former padawan were pouring across his temporal lobe; flickering strobes of suspended moments that held far more weight than he’d ever realized:

_Anakin smiling mischieviously over at him from the driver’s seat of a speeder...Anakin splattered in mud from head to toe and muttering something smarmy about their current mission...Anakin sleeping in a disgracefully sloppy manner over top of some cargo crates...Anakin calling him **Master** and **Obi-Wan**...Anakin curling up against him after they made love...Anakin saying **I love you.** _

The Bond flared brightly, sensing his subconscious draw towards their connection...nullifying his ability to break it in any way, shape, or form. Obi-Wan wrenched himself out of the trance with an anguished gasp, yanking his hands out of Luminara’s grip and covering his face with them. He could sense her silent and worried disapproval...without looking at her...he knew he had failed. 

“I can’t do it” he whispered. 

“You have to be emotionally willing in order to sever a Bond” was the soft response. “You are not.” 

“No, I’m not” Obi-Wan replied, and didn’t care in the least when his voice shook. Drawing his knees up and burying his head in his arms, he let his nails dig into his skin as he fought off a seemingly imminent panic attack. “I love him” he gasped, when he was finally able to breath again. “Stars help me, I _love_ him!” 

Luminara was silent, and he supposed there wasn’t anything she could really say. She couldn’t possibly understand how much had been irreparably damaged...or maybe she did...but it was different looking in as an outsider. He couldn’t rectify this, no matter hard he might want to. Obi-Wan had always been an optimist. Even in the darkest of hours, he’d always looked for a better perspective...a more positive outlook. Now though, he felt as if he was drowning in something that he could no longer rationalize with his training....and as a Med-droid came in to administer another dose of Moondust....

...he realized he could no longer see the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Please let me know if you feel that the Council's rescue was too abrupt. For some reason it's bothering me.   
>  Thanks for reading!
> 
> **R &R**


	7. Not Alive

Anakin didn’t remember much about being rescued. 

He was in bad shape, anyone with a brain could have told him that, but he was too far gone at that point to care about it. The only solid constant in his mind was his Bond with Obi-Wan, and he hung onto it like a lifeline. At one point, he felt his former Master’s conscious brush against his, and he’d tried to reach out to him...but he’d lost his grasp on that particular thread of thought. From then on he drifted in and out of awareness, catching snippets of the goings-on around him but not really registering anything beyond the fact that he was being moved around a lot. When he finally _did_ wake up, Anakin was back at the Temple and Mace was glaring at him over the top of a holopadd. In a brief moment of hysteria, he assumed he had died and that this was some sort of fucked-up purgatory. It would be just like a form of monstrous poetic justice for the Force to confine him to a room with a mirror-image of someone who didn’t particularly like him. 

Thankfully, Mace jumped right into detailing the parameters of their rescue, including Higii’s death and his terror was short-lived. Windu went on to inform him that the Moondust had done horrific damage to his body, though from the way he explained it he might as well have been reading him a finance report from their previous mission in the most disparaging tone possible. The Jedi Master was-to put it kindly-being less than sympathetic. He seemed to blame the entire failure of the mission on Anakin’s inability to sense peril, like some sort of wacky Force-radar on steroids. His failure to meditate properly had apparently thrown their plans out the window, along with his attitude, his method of dress, and his 'flagrant impatience.’ This extended, drawn-out rant over his faults went on for several minutes into increasingly ludicrous veins of accusation...’til Anakin was fully prepared for Mace to declare that he’d farted the wrong way and knocked the Force out of balance in tangent with their subsequent capture.

Obi-Wan was-of course-absolutely guilt-free and heaven-forbid they _ever_ get placed on the same mission again because Anakin was obviously hell-bent on either killing him or corrupting him. He then added salt to the wound by declaring that they’d been separated indefinitely and that he should spend his time in meditation thinking about what he’d done. At this point, disoriented, humiliated, and furious; Anakin had frankly lost his shit and told the second most senior member of the Jedi Council to stick his lightsaber somewhere flagrant and completely inappropriate. Mace had stormed out of the room and he’d spent the next ten minutes hyperventilating ‘till a Healer came and injected him with more Moondust. The Healer in question seemed a little bit terrified of him. Recent change in attitude aside, Anakin still had a reputation for being explosive and quick to place blame. He took his dismissal with an expression of relief. 

Some time later, Luminara came in to find him tinkering with the monitoring system and saw herself into a chair. She proceeded to gently but firmly inform him that telling Mace to stick his lightsaber up his arse was not in tangent with the Code, and that it had frankly made for a positively frigid Council Session. 

“Good” Anakin snapped. “At least he was grilling you on your faults and not me.” 

She sighed. 

“I was supposed to brief you on everything but Mace obviously decided I was too gentle a conduit. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“It doesn’t matter” Anakin said bitterly. “Once Windu gets it in his head that I’m the one to blame the rest of the Council follows his lead.” 

“Not this time” Luminara said firmly, and when he turned to look incredulously at her, she smiled sympathetically. “We saw _everything_ this time, or did you forget?” He flushed and ducked his head. “No one blames you, either of you. You were trying to survive.” 

"Just out of curiosity" he mumbled. "How much...did the Council watch?" 

Luminara grimaced understandingly.

"When Higii dosed you with the...aphrodisiac version of the narcotic the Council only witnessed snippets of it. The projection was heavily covered and muted, and only I and Yoda lifted the cover to briefly status-check. The rest of the Council was forbidden from seeing anything once it became clear what he'd dosed you with."

“Why are Obi-Wan and I separated if you viewed the majority of it?”

A shadow passed over the Jedi Master’s features, one he couldn’t quite read. 

“That is different” she stated simply. “In terms of your relationship with Obi-Wan...you’ve developed a powerful emotional Bond. One that perhaps saved the both of you while you were confined, but is no longer necessary now that you are no longer in peril.” She looked away and he sensed that she was trying to school her emotions. “I am here to help you sever that Bond.” 

Anakin narrowed his eyes.

“Why come to me?” he said suspiciously. “Obi-Wan is way more practiced with Force manipulation and meditation. I can barely meditate for half an hour before I need to go do something.” 

This time, Luminara’s avoidance of his gaze was obvious.

“I cannot disclose that information” she replied, tight-lipped.

The blonde lifted an incredulous brow.

“You’ve had this conversation before” he whispered. “With Obi-Wan...and it didn’t work.” 

“The individual has to be willing to break a Force Bond” she snapped, seemingly giving up on her guise of deception. 

Anakin considered her words.

“A part of Obi-Wan doesn’t want to break the Bond” he muttered, more to himself than anyone. As the realization dawned on him, he gave a short bark of laughter. “And you _really_ think that I, _Anakin Skywalker_ , one of the most emotionally compromised Jedi in the entire Order, am going to be any more successful than the Negotiator?” When Luminara didn’t reply he dissolved into laughter. “Sometimes” he gasped. “You people are really stupid.” 

At this, she stood, nearly knocking her chair over in her anger.

“You don’t realize the impact this will have on both of you!” she declared. “Your attachment blinds you to the gravity of your situation. If one of you dies, the other would inevitably Fall. If one of you Falls, _the other will Fall._ Both of you are inherently dangerous to the Order in your current state!” 

“And what, you’re gonna worry about that while we still have a drug that’s potentially causing us permanent brain damage in our systems?” Anakin scoffed. “Get your fucking priorities straight.” 

“You might not feel guilty over all of this, but it’s _killing_ your former Master” Luminara hissed. “He blames himself for it, he _hates_ himself for it. You don’t understand, and you never will. I don’t agree with the things Mace says to you, but I _do_ agree that you joined the Order too late. All of our lives have been nothing but pushing to be Jedi, we don’t know anything else. Emotionalism is the ultimate failure...it destroys the concept of what we’ve built ourselves up to be. Obi-Wan is falling apart because loving you has destroyed his image. He doesn’t know himself anymore. Imagine living your life thinking you were something...something _specific_ down to the head of a pin only to have that ripped away from you. It’s terrifying to him. He’s floundering and I don’t know how to pull him out, no one does.” 

Anakin sobered at her words.

“So let me see him” he implored. “Let me help him.” 

“You don’t get it” she insisted. “ _You’re_ the reason for all this. And I’m not saying you could help it, or that you even _wanted_ it...but Obi-Wan needs structure and order. He needs to know that despite all this he can still go back to who he was, and seeing you won’t help him do that.”

As she spoke, Anakin had sunk down onto the bed and put his head in his hands. He could feel Obi-Wan through their Bond, but he didn’t reach out to him. Luminara’s words were like a punch to the gut, and what’s more, they were true. Coming from anyone else, he might have been skeptical...but he’d always trusted her implicitly. Moreover, her explanation of Obi-Wan’s reasoning was singularly tangent with how his former Master thought. He couldn’t contest it. 

“So...we should just...stop being friends?” he muttered, still not looking up. 

A gentle hand on his shoulder gave him pause.

“It’s for the best. It’s for him” Luminara said gently. “If it helps, he misses you. I can tell. You both were always so good for each other, and it breaks my heart to know that Higii took that from you. I am truly sorry, no one should have to lose a friend because of the evil in someone else. And in this case, not only a friend, but a former Master and mentor.” She hesitated, then continued. “He told me he loves you, he was falling apart when he said it, but he loves you.” 

Anakin took a shaky breath at her admission, unsure if such knowledge really helped him at this point.

“I love him too” he whispered. “But I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand.” Luminara sighed and patted his shoulder before turning to leave. “What if he Falls?” Anakin queried when she’d reached the door.

She paused.

“Then he will come for you, and you will follow” she said seriously. “And may the Force help us all.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

By the end of a week Anakin was ready to pull his hair out. He was _bored_ , lonely, and absolutely miserable. The Healing Houses had always been a place of relative neutrality for him; he saw them when he was wounded during a battle but never spent an extended amount of time there, preventing him from forming any concrete feelings about the place. Now, he was absolutely sure he _hated_ them. Meditation was _not_ his thing, had _never_ been his thing...but the Council had given implicit instructions for him to double his proficiency with it before his discharge. The date of his release was-ironically-still a subjective thing, due to the fact that they couldn’t get him off the Moondust. Every time they tried to bring him down a dose he had grand mal seizures and/or dramatic brain bleeds through his nose due to ruptured cerebral vessels. Master Che, the Chief Healer, explained that the drug was cleverly designed to trigger a false hypoxia signal whenever it sensed a slight depletion. In layman’s terms; his brain ‘panicked’ and forced blood through his brain at high speed to compensate what it perceived as a lack of oxygen; causing weakened cranial vessels. No one had been able to find a way around it, and they’d stopped trying it when he’d lost the ability to form words for half an hour.

The result was his dependency on Moondust not getting any better, though it didn’t seem to be getting any worse either, but it was hard to tell. Initial injection lost him an hour at a time, with administration every six to seven, with him losing up to six hours a day. This didn’t make his adherence back to normalcy any easier, and he was often disoriented and irritable. His sleep cycles were erratic and plagued with nightmares of Higii forcing giant syringes down his throat and pulling his intestines out through his teeth. Any good dreams he had were of Obi-Wan, and they never talked; they just looked at each other...often with one of them crying silently. It was-he suspected-more of a reflection of the Bond than a real dream, and whatever contact they had was genuine but subconscious. That was incredibly depressing. From what he saw of his former Master, he didn’t seem to be feeling any better than he was. Any attempts to get information about him out of Luminara were unsuccessful or downright ignored.

Ahsoka came and visited him a few times, but he could tell by the second visit that it upset her to see him in such an ill frame of mind. Kit had taken up her tutelage in his absence, and Anakin couldn’t bring himself to be resentful of it. Her life couldn’t be put on pause just because his had been, and at the end of the third visit, he asked for her to be barred from his room. She was supportive and encouraging; full of jokes and stories...but behind it Anakin could sense that she was scared and sad. He knew it would hurt her, but she would ultimately be better for it. Other than his meditation sessions with various healers, he received few visitors. Rex and Cody had stopped by to say hello, but they were incredibly busy with the war and it was a one-time occurrence. Occasionally, Vos came by to slip him some chocolate or assorted fruit, and Luminara was a constant presence but it wasn’t the same as having a friend. Therefore, it was truly a surprise when Padme came to visit him. 

He was having a few lucid hours after a meditation session when she arrived. The wing he was on allowed for long-term patients to have a bedroom, a fresher, and a receiving area for well-wishers. Anakin had asked for some mechanical parts from Vos, and surprisingly, the man had complied; going as far as to provide him with a small toolkit he’d snuck off his Delta-7B. He spent what little precious time he had to himself fitting various pieces together and occasionally repairing things that Quinlan brought to him. It wasn’t challenging work, but it was delicate and time-consuming. When Padme tapped him on the shoulder, he’d yelped and dropped the wrench he was holding. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Ani” the Senator said, flustered. She knelt and hastened to pick it up to hand it back to him, pulling her hood down as she did so. “Here you go.”

Anakin blinked stupidly.

“Padme?” he said incredulously. 

The woman in question smiled crookedly and sat back on here heels.

“I heard about what happened to you on Corellia” she murmured, picking up a connector and playing with the wires. “I thought I might come by and see how you are.” 

“The Council told you about it?” he asked incredulously.

She looked surprised. 

“...It’s been all over the news. Higii was a highly wanted criminal, the Senate made sure to make the public aware of his death and the circumstances behind it.” 

Anakin felt slightly sick.

“...How...how _much_ of the circumstances behind it?”

Padme put the connector down and fussed with her skirt for a moment.

“They said you and Obi-Wan had been captured, drugged, and held by Higii for an extended amount of time.” She looked worriedly at him. “Pretty much everyone knew how dangerous Higii’s narcotics were, I can’t imagine how you’re handling coming off them.” 

“I’m not coming off them” he said bitterly, placing the wrench on his worktable and sitting cross-legged in front of her. “I can’t. I’ll die if I do, at least until they find something that’ll help me.”

Padme clapped her hands over her mouth, her expression horrified.

“Oh, Anakin, I’m so sorry! I can’t imagine what that’s like!”

Anakin scratched absentmindedly at his arm, which was now littered with a myriad of spot bandages. The Healers, at least, didn’t inject him via his jugular. 

“I feel like I’m dead” he said flatly. “I’m losing hours every day and my mind just...it feels numb all the time. Sometimes, if the nightmares don’t come, I can get some peace when I’m sleeping.” 

“You could stay with me" she said hesitantly. She glanced around the room. “It’s...not very lively here is it? I imagine it’s rather boring. I have an extra room and I’m sure the bed is much softer." 

He laughed, a little bitterly.

“Padme, I appreciate it, but I can’t. I’m a Jedi, I have to follow Temple doctrine or I’ll be a liability.” 

“I just don’t see how this-” she waved at the stark room. “-Is helping you. When I came in, you looked like the loneliest person in the Galaxy. That can’t be healing for you.”

“A Jedi is never lonely with the Force” Anakin quoted tonelessly.

Padme looked alarmed.

“That’s nonsense” she said irritably, glancing down. “You look like you’re about to keel over and die from isolation.”

“I get a ton of visitors Padme” he lied, forcing some false bravado into his voice. “Really, you don’t have to worry about me.”

She relaxed a little bit, leaning forward and placing her hand over his.

“Do you promise Ani? Promise me you’ll let me know if you need someone to sit with you, even if you don’t want to talk. I know we haven’t been around each other since Geonosis, and I understand we’ve not really been fast friends. But I still think about you and wonder how you’re doing. I hate to think of you being here and being unhappy.” 

He smiled weakly.

“Thanks Padme, it’s good to have friends in high places.”

She scoffed.

“Oh, not like that. I mean as a _friend_ , friend. Someone to talk to, someone to confide in.” 

“I love Obi-Wan” he said abruptly. 

She startled, her palm contacting slightly over his before settling again as she considered his words. 

“I’m sorry” she whispered. 

He looked at her, a little surprised despite his cloud of misery.

“You don’t hate me?”

She raised an eyebrow and smiled, a little pityingly. 

“Anakin, it’s been a while since I told you I had feelings for you. I’ve accepted it and moved on. Obi-Wan is a wonderful man, I’ve always thought so. And I’m _so sorry_ you feel that way about him.”

“Yeah” Anakin said bitterly. “So am I.” He pulled away from her and looked to the side, trying to ignore the grief that seemed to be crushing him alive. “They said we’re not good for each other, that we’re destroying each other.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand. If we’re bad for one another, why is being apart worse than anything Higii ever did to me?” 

“Probably because they’re wrong” Padme said gently. “But if Obi-Wan feels the same way you do, you know he’ll try to rationalize it so he doesn’t betray himself. There’s nothing you can do but wait.”

“I’m trying” Anakin said, his voice breaking. “I’m _really_ trying...but the longer I wait, the more I feel like I’m not alive.”

“Oh, Anakin” Padme whispered, shuffling forward and wrapping her arms around him. 

He held onto her. 

It wasn’t because he had any romantic feelings for her, but because he felt like she inherently understood. Padme knew love and loss, she could feel her emotions and not feel shame in having them. In some ways, she was the first non-judgmental person he’d seen in what felt like an eternity. Her dress was somewhat scratchy, and her perfume was just a tad strong...but she was warm and human and she didn’t think he was a failure for hurting....

...so he held on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N** : Well, that was depressing. Sorry, this chapter was a little short but weekends are a busy time. I've been trying to post every 2-3 days but the end of last week kind of turned into a shitstorm.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	8. Purple Lightning Grotto

The days seemed to bleed into one another.

When existing in a perpetual state of indifference bordering on uncontrollable hysteria, Obi-Wan supposed that this was rather normal. He’d gotten off the Moondust within a week’s time, and the Council saw fit to throw him back into Temple life without hesitation. Their logic banked upon the fact that he needed routine and duty to balance out his borderline suicidal depression...but he couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t really helping him. He attended therapy sessions three times a week, sometimes with healers he hadn’t met, and sometimes with Luminara or Master Che. His meditation skills seemed to have suffered no major setbacks, yet despite numerous immersions several times a day, he couldn’t find that peace he’d once felt when communing with the Force. It was still there when he closed his eyes and settled his mind, but it felt unfamiliar and somewhat unsettling. Luminara assured him that this would change with time. Marische had had complete control of their access to the Force while they were confined, and having autonomous freedom with such a powerful tool could be daunting and discomfiting at first. Still, gazing out on the boundless threads of the Lifestream and seeing only a yawning void of endless time was in no way comforting.

If he wasn’t meditating, Obi-Wan was being dragged about by his fellow Council members. Plo Koon had asked him to sit in on several lectures regarding the Jedi Creed, and Vos had pushed a five hour shipping transfer on him that involved logging every single item being hauled to the storage units. Kit was suddenly incredibly interested in studying the Senate’s political constructs, and no matter how many times he fell asleep while Obi-Wan was talking, he made him start over from the beginning each and every time. Luminara was suddenly swamped in the creche-despite the fact that the number of Force-Sensitive infants had not increased since their capture-and Obi-Wan was now thoroughly familiar with the proper way to swaddle a screaming baby. If he _did_ find himself wandering the halls alone, he was soon accosted by Yoda and his Younglings, who were-at the moment-studying the Twenty-One Maxims and their relevance to the life of a Jedi Knight. The Grand Master and his gaggle of students bounced theoretical questions off him for hours at a time. 

When 2100 rolled around, Obi-Wan practically sprinted back to his quarters in order to get some much-needed rest. If he wasn’t up by 0630 it was common for Mace to come crashing through the door to announce his _‘desperately needed’_ presence in the Council Chambers. This was more of a _'let’s make sure General Kenobi hasn’t offed himself tonight’_ than a _’we actually need you to figure something out’_ sort of deal. By 2130, he was absolutely wasted. They’d moved Anakin’s things out of their shared quarters three days before, and the void his possessive presence left was staggering. Before, he’d always had the younger man to preoccupy him; Anakin was masterful at creating something out of nothing. If they didn’t have a holomovie to watch, he scribbled down trivia from previous films and they took turns lobbing questions at each other. When dinner down in the cafeteria was something inedible, Anakin could throw on an apron, fix a five-star meal, and make the whole affair entertaining and engaging to boot. Here, alone, Obi-Wan was painfully reminded of his social and emotional inadequacies. It was easier to get plastered and fall into bed at the end of the day than to observe his trepidation and deal with it. 

He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Anakin since his release, and if he were honest with himself, it was beginning to worry him. At first, he’d chalked it up to his former padawan _finally_ following protocol...but that was before the talking started. These rumors came in the shape of padawans huddled in corners whispering about the disappearance of the ‘Chosen One’, speaking in hushed tones until they noticed Obi-Wan listening in and scattered like flies. Newly-initiated Knights gossiped happily over the fact that perhaps the famed ‘General Skywalker’ had finally tested the Council’s patience once too often, and had been thrown out of the Order for his impertinence. All of this was-of course-untrue; and Obi-Wan could still _feel_ Anakin in the Temple...but he never _saw_ him. Still, a stubborn part of him whispered that it wasn’t any of his business. Anakin was likely trying to move on with his life, and if he was sensible, he would do the same. The Council had ordered their separation, and though he occasionally felt the blue edges of his former padawan’s psyche brush against his, he never attempted to reach out to him. It felt like a betrayal...but he still worried. 

**_*Remember to tune in at 0930 for Sidnay’s Style Sessions, that’s all for tonight folks! It’s a cold one out there, so make sure you bundle up! This is Nikday Norswaym and we’ll see you tomorrow at the same time!*_ **

There was a muffled thump as the glass he was holding rolled out of his fingers and onto the carpet. It was-blessedly-empty, and the stains to the upholstery were minimal...if not nonexistent. Blinking somewhat lethargically, Obi-Wan made to retrieve it...his fingers halfway to their intended destination before the world tilted sideways and the room spun. Whimpering, the Jedi Master threw himself backwards and curled up on his side. Intrinsically, Obi-Wan knew he couldn’t keep up with himself for much longer. His mind was reaching its limits of tolerance and patience...especially with himself, and no matter how hard he tried to justify the events on Corellia...he couldn’t. When he was busy, it was a matter of putting it to the side and allowing habitualness to take over...but when he was alone and halfway through a bottle of Cassandrian chohol, it was entirely different. A part of him was _starving_ for Anakin, for his closeness and his comfort. Another part of him was drunkenly raving over the fact that his former padawan obviously didn’t _want_ to see him, and yet another section screamed that something was _wrong_ and Anakin was _missing_. 

Obi-Wan shivered and watched the ceiling contort above him, fumbling thoughtlessly for his hand-held radio as static began to play over the speakers. It took a bit of blind fiddling with the knobs; but soon, all was blessedly silent. It was here, in these few yawning moments before unconsciousness took him, that Obi-Wan was loneliest. In Corellia, he’d had the soft warmth of Anakin’s body to curl into, even when he wasn’t wearing layers of heavy fabric. He could bury his misery in soft waves of golden hair and pretend all was right with the world. Here, he had nothing but the semi-yielding surface of his couch and the heavy thickness of alcohol on his tongue. Obi-Wan swallowed and gave in to the blackness that had been steadily pressing in on his psyche; taking one last look at the brilliant, intimate twist of blue and yellow that was their Bond before surrendering himself to darkness.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

_The cave walls were unremarkable, but each divot and press was incredibly significant._

_Obi-Wan had memorized the lay of the cave at the age of twelve, running his fingers over hard, unyielding stone ‘till his hands were chafed red by his persistence. He’d wanted to burn the memory of his time there into his mind so he’d never forget it...so that no matter how many years had passed...he’d always have its recollection etched into his psyche. Qui-Gon had scolded him for his obsessive thoroughness, slathering his palms in bacta and wrapping gauze over his fingertips as he went on about the insignificance of circumstance and the importance of detachment. He hadn’t cared. It had been the one and only time that his Master had bothered to talk to him, to _really_ talk to him as an equal. Qui-Gon had recognized Obi-Wan’s ability to rise above the rest of his peers long before his apprenticeship, but he had never addressed the fact. Obi-Wan had gone through his training believing himself less-than ordinary, perhaps even inferior due to his peers’ obvious avoidance of him. It was there, in the cave, the Qui-Gon had told him that he was _more_ , and that he should let go of his bitterness towards his obvious difference. _

_‘Your vision makes you wise, my young padawan...but don’t let it make you think you are **too** wise....’_

_The cave was cold, as he remembered it...small yet of no particular shape, opening up from a crevasse between two rock faces. They’d crashed there, somewhere nondescript and off-grid with their radio down and their sensors haywire. The planet had no known name, despite being large and foreboding on their specs...and when they opened the cockpit to view their surroundings, it was obvious why. The place was uninhabitable, with mile upon mile of rocky mountaintop stretching into a horizon that was black with storm clouds emitting purple lightning. Each strike sent howling echoes across the crags ‘till your ears nearly vibrated with the noise. The wind was blistering and cold; soon to be suffused with rain that could be toxic or even acidic. They’d had no choice but to abandon the ship and find cover, dragging what little they might need behind them in a poorly hobbled sled. Finding the cave was an accident-though a happy one at that-and neither of them had been sure if they’d survive the night before then._

_Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan turned towards the fire that was flickering in a darkened corner, his hands trembling as he took in the two figures seated there. Qui-Gon appeared to be watching something off on the far wall, though in this darkness, he couldn’t see what it was. His Master looked younger, healthier than he had when he had died, and Obi-Wan was struck by how hardship and duty had taken its toll. Across the fire his younger self slumbered, tucked in a standard-issue blanket with his head pillowed on a ration pack. Obi-Wan grimaced, remembering how it had taken him weeks to get the scent of processed boontaspiced mustard out of his braid. The duo’s belongings were piled haphazardly at the entrance to the cave; preventing the wind that whistled between nylon and zipper spaces from freezing their faces off._

_“You should come sit by the fire” Qui-Gon commented, without taking his eyes from whatever he was staring at. “You’ll be warmer.”_

_Obi-Wan startled slightly at the sound of his voice; familiar, yet unbearably distant after so much time spent away from it. Still, his feet obeyed even if his mind did not, and he found himself sitting cross-legged next to his former Master, staring at the far wall of the cave. Only now, it wasn’t the cave at all but a semi-translucent image that seemed to somewhat cover the stone that was beyond it; blurring together to form the picture of a young Anakin stumbling into Obi-Wan’s darkened room with tears running down his cheeks. Sucking in a pained breath, Obi-Wan acknowledged that he remembered this moment. His _very_ young padawan had missed his mother, and was subsequently afraid of sleeping in a dark room on his own. He watched with a sort of bitter-tender feeling in his chest as his younger self blinked sleepily and lifted the covers so that Anakin could curl up next to him and hold his hand. _

_“I knew you would make a good Master” Qui-Gon said idly._

_Obi-Wan raised a brow._

_“Did you now?”_

_For the first time, his former Master looked squarely at him, and it seemed like the breath was sucked from his lungs as those familiar blue eyes stared into his soul._

_“I did” was the firm reply, and he looked away again._

_The ‘younger’ man followed his lead and smiled nostalgically at the scene before them. This time, Anakin and Obi-Wan were arguing. Standing in front of his padawan’s speeder, Obi-Wan was looking decidedly grumpy, and Anakin was practically stamping his feet._

_“Ah, that’s right, I wouldn’t let him fly his speeder halfway across the planet to pick up a vintage copy of whatever he was interested in at the time” Obi-Wan mused, chuckling as Anakin attempted to Force-Push his Master out of the way only to land flat on his back. “This does do wonders for my ego. I couldn’t Force-Push Anakin if I had half the Council to help me now.”_

_**His** Master laughed. _

_“He had a Force Signature that was staggering, even then.”_

_The scene changed again, taking a much darker turn. Anakin was resolutely refusing to listen to Obi-Wan as they battled four-dozen droidekas, using both the Force and his lightsaber to push their adversaries away. Despite his prowess, they were surrounded and pathetically outnumbered. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He’d been so _angry_ with Anakin for ignoring him. They barely spoke to each other during that time, and their relationship was so compromised it took everything he had to keep them both alive._

_“Every Master-Padawan team struggles through periods like this” Qui-Gon said, his eyes narrowed somewhat._

_Obi-Wan was a bit incredulous._

_“Master, even you have to admit, Anakin could be atrociously bullheaded.”_

_A laugh followed his comment._

_“Obi-Wan, _you_ could be atrociously bullheaded when you wanted to be, you were simply more tactile.” _

_“Our relationship was practically ruined” he whispered, watching as the scene dissipated._

_The next scene was-if possible-more painful then the last. It served as a reminder of what had been lost on Corellia. Anakin was sorting some pots and pans above the stove in their quarters, his tunic rolled up to the elbows as he brought down a double-handled saucepan. Beside him were vegetables of varying shapes, sizes, and colors...and Obi-Wan instantly recognized it as one of his favorite dishes. He himself in question was wandering into the room with his nose buried in a holobook, and Obi-Wan covered his eyes in embarrassment as he ran directly into the wall separating the bedrooms from the living/kitchen area with a resounding thump. Qui-Gon dissolved into a series of helpless chuckles as Anakin yelped and dropped the pot he was holding with a thunderous ***crash*** , hastening to peer around the dividing wall and blink worriedly at a discomfited Obi-Wan, who was rubbing his forehead in an aggrieved manner. _

_“He never let me hear the end of that” the auburn-haired Jedi muttered, watching as Anakin doubled over and clutched his stomach._

_“You were a good match for each other” Qui-Gon chortled as the ‘other’ Obi-Wan ‘attacked’ Anakin with a wooden spoon._

_Slowly the scene bled away again, and the Jedi Master flinched as the next scenario came into focus. It was the ‘room’ Higii had fashioned for them...accurate down to the last string of gauze in the ceiling overhead. Obi-Wan was stretched out over Anakin; whose knees were cradling his hips as they kissed deeply, languorously. His eyes were drawn to the soft flush on those alabaster cheeks, to the trembling in his former padawan’s fingers...it was painfully apparent that they were in the throes of making love; what with the way that those hips canted up with each thrust from Obi-Wan, hands gripping hair as their bodies glimmered with a thin sheen of sweat._

_“There was a reason I never returned your feelings” Qui-Gon commented, watching the scene impassively. “Or...at the very least, that I never told you I did.” Obi-Wan was far too mortified to form any sort of reply. He was sure his face was as red as a tomato. “Look at how he looks at you” his former Master continued, gesturing to Anakin, who was staring up at the ‘other’ Obi-Wan with an expression of open-mouthed ecstacy. “That’s more than what you went through, young one....and you know it. He looks at you like you’re the single star in a black universe, and you look at him like he’s a God.”_

_Reluctantly, Obi-Wan dragged his gaze to his own features, struck by the mindless adulation in his expression as he slid his hands under Anakin’s thighs and thrust deep, drawing a loud groan from both of them._

_“It scares me” he whispered hoarsely._

_“You scared me” Qui-Gon said quietly. “I didn’t want to be your idol, I wanted to be your equal, and you never saw me that way.” He shook his head. “I loved you, I _still_ love you, but he doesn’t worship you...he brings out the best in you.” He shifted slightly, throwing a long plait of his hair over his shoulder. “If you’re not careful, you will lose that, and very soon.” _

_Obi-Wan swallowed, feeling somewhat relieved as the picture before them disappeared._

_“The Code-” he began uncertainly._

_“-Doesn’t matter” Qui-Gon snapped. “Anakin will die, Obi-Wan.”_

_Even as horror flooded him at his former Master’s words, they were greeted with yet another moving image; this one of Anakin lying on one of the beds in the Healing wing. The thin outline of a hastily mopped blood trail ran from his nose to the edge of his lips and his breathing was erratic and unsteady. A disembodied hand moved into the frame; lifting a gauze-wrapped arm and pulling the bandages away to reveal skin that was peppered with track marks. As the needle sank into bruised skin...it all became painfully clear. Anakin couldn’t get off the Moondust...not alone, and he couldn’t forgive himself for what had happened on Corellia alone. They had to do it together, or it was going to destroy them both. Dropping his head into his hands, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth against the flood of self-deprecating grief that was threatening to overwhelm him. A hand on his shoulder steadied him somewhat, and by the time he lifted his head to look, the scene in front of him was gone._

_“Anakin loves you” Qui Gon continued. “And you love him. Stop fighting it, accept it. I’m not saying you should throw away your lives as Jedi, but this isn’t something you can work through by yourselves. Love isn’t one-sided, it involves two people...and the only way to make proper decisions when it comes to love is to unify.” Those wise, blue eyes were now tinged with regret. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you sooner. In all honesty, at that point, I should have taken it to the grave.” He looked away. “Obi-Wan, I fear for what you will become if you don’t reconcile your feelings.”_

_“But I love you” Obi-Wan protested halfheartedly._

_Qui-Gon smiled crookedly._

_“You love me” he agreed. “But you aren’t **in** love with me. You haven’t been in love with me for a long time, and you are **not** betraying my memory by loving Anakin.” _

_The younger Obi-Wan across the fire began to stir, and Qui-Gon looked fondly at him for a moment._

_“Is any of this real?” the ‘older’ version asked, casting his gaze upwards to the ceiling of the cave._

_“Maybe” his former Master said cryptically. “Maybe we’ve always been here, you and I...lost in a memory of what could have been. Your heart has moved on, but your mind hasn’t.”_

_“What about your heart?”_

_Qui-Gon chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly._

_**“My** heart belongs to the Force” he said calmly. “I chose the Force long before I knew I loved you.” Slowly, the cave around them was starting to slip away, and Obi-Wan felt a moment of disbelieving panic before his emotions settled on a sort of calm acceptance. “Find Anakin” his Master continued. “Find him, and tell him you love him. If you don’t, you will regret it until the day you die.”_

__Consciousness was a difficult thing for him to reclaim...and Obi-Wan acknowledged that he’d probably partially poisoned himself with high levels of ethanol. Qui-Gon was right, he couldn’t keep living this way, and he couldn’t reconcile staying away from Anakin when he was very obviously wasting away. It was with immense effort that he reached into the Force and wrapped himself around Anakin’s presence in the Bond. His former padawan’s Signature trembled slightly before engulfing him in a display of emotionalism that would have left him gasping had he been conscious. And it was with a sort of breathless and wordless exaltation that Obi-Wan whispered that he was _coming_ for him. Come what may...he would not turn his back on Anakin for the sake of preservation again. His soul was as irrevocably tied to their love as his limbs were to his body...and when he basked in the shimmering effervescence of their combined Signatures...

...he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I'm sorry I've been so long between chapters. I actually had a completely different version of this chapter written and it got wiped from my computer, so I had to start over from scratch so I just ended up putting an entirely different spin on it. I honestly like this one better, though I do think it is somewhat synonymous with Anakin's Force Vision with Shmi in Unconscious Design, so I hope I haven't overdone that concept. I think Obi-Wan will seek out Ahsoka next, though whether that happens in the foreground or background of the plot remains to be seen.
> 
>  **Edit:** Dont know if this is relevant, but the concept of Qui-Gon viewing Obi-Wan's life with Anakin came from the Criminal Minds episode where Hotch gets shot and he and his dead wife reconcile over the new path his life is taking in a movie theatre.


	9. Braided Sanguination

Obi-Wan found him at 0230.

Anakin had felt his former Master’s presence searching for him a few hours beforehand, and the cool cerulean blue of his Signature wrapping around his had brought him to his knees. He’d been wrapped in one of the many throw rugs Padme had taken to sending him, trying to fight off the inevitable shakes of withdrawal when their Bond had exploded into life...his mentor reaching across the psychic space between them to assure him he was alright, and that he was coming. In the middle of a Moondust-addled stupor, Anakin had been able to do little more than ‘collapse’ in his metaphysical ‘arms.’ 

He’d honestly given up on the idea of reconciliation...at least not before he was dead. Master Che had come in the day before to inform him they had two weeks of supply left, based on how much he was consuming. The Master Healer had wanted to try and wean him off again, but Anakin had refused. It was painful and traumatic, and he didn’t want to go through withdrawals again unless he was going to meet his end on the other side of that agony. He was tired of constantly fighting against something. Whether it was the approval of the Council, the Separatists, the favor of the Galactic citizenry, his own demons or the fucking Moondust...Anakin was exhausted. 

Higii’s drug had left him emotionally destroyed, physically weak, and mentally shredded. A week previous, he’d noticed his hand-eye coordination was starting to degrade at a rapid pace, and the mechanics he so loved to work with were no longer safe for him to use. This-of all things-brought whatever recovery he’d been making separate from his addiction crumbling to the ground. Anakin had always taken pride in the fact that if he couldn’t keep up with Temple Standards, he could at least calibrate a speeder to absolutely perfect Space faring guidelines. He’d many times preserved by banking on the reassurance that if he couldn’t become a Knight, he could at least be a decently-respected mechanic. Now, it looked as if even his passions were going to the wayside. Death was preferable. Death was _tolerable._ At the same time, he acknowledged it as cowardly and self-pitying. 

Luminara had tried for days to convince him to think in a way that was beneficial to his recovery, but _recovery_ was a technical term. Even if he did manage to close himself off from his Bond with Obi-Wan, there was still the inevitable fact that he was going to die a painful, excruciating death in two weeks. Under different circumstances, this probably would have been motivation for him to go out, get trashed and screw someone-(or several someones)- but after giving himself to Obi-Wan, the idea of being with someone else made him physically sick, and he was fucked-up all the time anyway so drinking was decidedly unappealing. A younger, more reckless version of himself might have stolen a speeder and run himself into the Senate building just to spite every dogma-obsessed and overdressed son-of-a-bitch who had wanted him on their security detail for the sake of public admiration, but he didn’t want his epitaph to include _’crazy Jedi terrorist’_ enough that he restrained himself. 

Anakin shivered and gritted his teeth as the feeling of being sapped of moisture intensified. The couch underneath him was suddenly textured in a way that made him want to scratch himself ‘till he bled, and Padme’s blanket might as well have been woven with steel wool. It was like this...euphoric half-lifes accompanied by a few hours of clarity before descending into a state that had his clothes feeling like heated magma and his skin begging to be ripped off. Che never let him go further than that, and Anakin was convinced he had an apprentice monitoring his vitals day and night to make sure he didn’t accidentally exsanguinate himself. Ironically, it was during times like this that he _least_ wanted the Moondust. At the most humiliating and painful points of his day, he was in the most control of his urges.Now, with Obi-Wan looking for him, he _desperately_ didn’t want to be under the influence when he arrived. 

Flexing his right foot, Anakin kicked at the coffee table till it slid away from him ever-so-slightly. His rooms were in the ICU, sequestered away from the rest of the Healing Halls to ensure privacy and discretion. Vokara Che ran a seamless facility that operated on three tiers. The first tier was a multi-bed recovery hall manned by droids and overseen by a single Master healer. Anakin had been in that room most often in the past, for superficial wounds in need of stitching or fractures that had to be set. The second tier was run by apprentice healers and consisted of two-bed rooms. Jedi in the second tier were usually suffering infections due to poorly treated injuries. It was hard to properly wrap a blaster hole in the middle of combat. The ICU was reserved for terminally ill patients; Masters and Knights at the end of their lifespans and individuals mortally wounded in the field. It was pretty disheartening to be in a ward where the majority of the inhabitants left in a body bag. 

The knock at his door seemed to reverberate around the inside of his skull, and Anakin clapped his hands over his ears in an attempt to dampen the noise.

_”Knight Skywalker? Your vitals have spiked. I’m here to administer a dose.”_

It was Che then, of course it would be Che. He always worked graveyard shift didn’t he? Anakin couldn’t remember. His days and nights were like an abstract oil painting; a coagulation of vague impressions with occasional bursts of vibrant color, smeared across his synapses like sloppy psychic acrylic. 

“I don’t want it!” he snapped hoarsely, then winced at the sound of his own voice.

There was a pause, then a soft **_*beep*_** as Che palmed the access panel and the door slid open. She cut an admittedly impressive figure, Vokara. Tall and broad for a female Twi’lek, most sensible-minded individuals followed her orders without question. Her montrals quivered as she observed Anakin with a mixture of exasperation and pity. Under different circumstances, he supposed he would have liked her. She was honest, straightforward, and never hid anything medically significant from him for the sake of his feelings. He did his best to remain cordial, but it was difficult when his subconscious acknowledged her as an extension of Higii’s campaign. She _wasn’t_ Higii, but she was still giving him the very thing that had gotten him into this situation in the first place...and it was hard to differentiate. 

“You know what will happen if you go without” Che said firmly. 

“I don’t care” he muttered, scratching desperately at his arms. 

She sighed.

“Legally, I can’t stop you.”

There was the rustle of footsteps in the hallway, and Anakin watched with only a mild amount of curiosity as she turned to look out the door. What _did_ catch his attention was the way she stiffened, her expression schooling itself into blankness in the face of whoever was coming. 

“Vokara” a familiar voice commented, and this time it was Anakin’s turn to stiffen. He observed in a kind of dazed disbelief as Obi-Wan stepped through the door, his cloak settling around him as he stopped to speak with Che. “I trust you are well?”

The Master Healer observed him with an unfathomable expression.

“I wasn’t aware you knew of Knight Skywalker’s location” she said finally.

“Unfortunately, I was not privy to that knowledge” the older man agreed, raising a brow. “However, I _also_ wasn’t aware that he has only two weeks left to live if he can’t get off Higii’s narcotics, so I’m sure that you can put together why I’m here.” 

Che appeared to consider his words, her gaze moving to the empty hallway. Eventually, she dipped her hand into a pocket of her robes and drew out what Anakin recognized as a syringe. Even as his body trembled hungrily, he mentally recoiled in disgust 

“He refuses to take his next dose” she said quietly. “It is my belief he wishes to die. Perhaps you can convince him otherwise.”

Pressing the item into his Master’s palm, the Healer bade them goodnight and swiftly exited, the sound of her steps receding into silence. Obi-Wan remained where he was, loosely clutching the syringe, a distraught look on his face. Anakin wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Burying his head in his knees he acknowledged with a surge of self-hatred that Obi-Wan was yet again playing the hero. He was putting his needs aside so Anakin could live and probably hurting himself in the process. Anakin hated the person who had told his former Master of his situation by instinct. He’d done his damnedest to remain innocuous so the older man could recover, and through some thoughtless blabbering his efforts hadn’t been worth shit. If he ever _did_ get better, he was going to find whoever spilled the beans and beat the ever-living shavit out of them. 

The crinkle of faux-leather indicated that Obi-Wan had sat down next to him, and he shifted away; the tension in his shoulders nearly unbearable.

“You shouldn’t be here” he muttered without looking up. “You’re supposed to be getting better.”

There was a soft exhalation of breath.

“I’d never forgive myself for turning a blind eye while you suffered” was the quiet response in that familiar, clipped voice.

“You were never supposed to know” Anakin snapped. “I’m gonna _flay_ whoever told you.”

He stiffened at the soft chuckle that floated across his eardrums.

“Well, you’d have a hard time doing that I’m afraid. Qui-Gon is very much a part of the Living Force. Though I’m sure he’d be very tickled to hear you threaten his corporeal form.”

Well. That explained some things. Anakin rolled his eyes. Fucking Force-Visions. No wonder Obi-Wan had come running. Still, a small weight lifted off his chest at the idea that the Force approved of them working together to solve this. More virulent still was Luminara’s warning that he was a liability to his former Master’s continuity, however. He couldn’t justify that, even if the Force wanted him to. 

“I’m just gonna hurt you” he whispered. 

“You’ll certainly hurt me if you stop fighting this.”

“Luminara said-”

“-Luminara is disillusioned” was the cold response, and he startled at the amount of venom behind the older man’s words. “I’d honestly like to throw her and half the Council off the Chamber Spires right now. They assumed that I wouldn’t be affected by your possibly imminent death, and I consider that an insult to both my character and my integrity. _I_ trained you, _I_ fought Dooku with you, and _I_ am the Master who proudly decided you were ready for Knighthood. Maybe that’s pride, maybe it’s attatchment, but for them to throw those facts away in order to keep me as a foot solider in a war that I have abhorred from the start is frankly disgusting.”

Anakin’s resolve was swiftly crumbling.

“If you’re close to me, you’ll Fall” he whispered. 

A warm hand clasped his knee and he reluctantly looked up, his breath catching at the resolve in those stormy eyes before him.

“If you had died, and the only indication I had of it was the severance of your psyche in our Bond, I _would_ have Fallen” was the tight response. “Unquestioningly.”

Anakin opened his mouth to reply-to resist-but he was _tired_ of resisting.

“Obi-Wan” he said weakly.

 _”Anakin”_ was the whispered reply.

The utterence of his name, so achingly familiar coming from his lips, shattered every bit of terrified reluctance he’d been so desperately hanging on to. The blanket slid off his shoulders and onto the floor as they embraced; limb over limb with Anakin’s head pillowed against Obi-Wan’s chest. He was too big for it-had been for quite a while-and it would have been incredibly uncomfortable in different circumstances...but here, now, it was _just right._ Here he could smell the bland aroma of Standard-Issue shaving cream and a soft hint ofTarine...a tea the older man was particularly fond of. Underneath all this it was painfully obvious that Obi-Wan was thinner, though nowhere near as physically incapacitated as Anakin. Still, in the face of everything, they were together. 

“I love you” Obi-Wan murmured against his hair, carding a hand through tangled strands before letting his fingers rest at the nape of his neck. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Love you” Anakin muttered, shivering slightly despite the warmth around him. He paused, struggling to voice the question that had been nagging at him since Obi-Wan had mentioned his death. “What will you do, if I...?” 

There was a pause, and he sensed rather than saw his former Master withdraw into himself. A telltale burst of pain from the Bond gave him a partial answer, but he refrained from drawing assumptions.

“...I don’t know” the older man replied. “Anakin, you have to understand that the Council...what they’ve done...I’m having a _very_ hard time brushing it aside.”

Anakin coughed weakly.

“Yeah, but they’re just doing what the Code tells them to.”

“There’s nothing in the Code about separating Bonded individuals who may or may not go insane with the death of their partner” Obi-Wan said darkly.

“...You really think it’s that strong a connection?”

There was another stretch of silence, and Anakin was intensely aware of his partner’s shyness.

“I...I’ve been with other people” he began uncomfortably. “I know you haven’t, but, being with you was… _overwhelmingly_ intimate. It-it’s not like that with every person you sleep with.” He stopped, obviously flustered. “I have a very hard time believing someone like Windu or Yoda wouldn’t recognize the strength of a Signature Braid.” 

Anakin rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“When you put it that way, it’s like they were _trying_ to piss you off.”

The older man snorted.

“Well, they succeeded.” There was a rustle and a familiar clink as his former Master drew the syringe from his pocket. Both seemed to tense at the sight of it, at once apprehensive and resigned. “...Will you take it?”

The younger man pulled back slightly, taking his time to study the face before him. Obi-Wan was tired, that much was obvious from the deep circles under his eyes. His lips were chapped from biting them too often; a nervous gesture Anakin hadn’t seen since they’d reconciled after Geonosis. Yet despite his external differences, their Bond was humming with his relief, his acceptance of their situation. 

“Will you stay?” Anakin mumbled. 

Dexterous fingers cupped his cheek, and he leaned into the touch automatically.

“I’m here to stay” was the firm response. “Until you no longer have need of me, or until we leave this room together.”

The younger man resignedly pushed up his sleeve, wincing as fabric dragged against oversensitive skin peppered with track marks.

“Promise me something” he said quietly. “If something happens to me, and you feel like you can’t figure things out with the Council...leave the Order.” 

Obi-Wan paused, having busied his fingers with searching for a vein. 

“...May I ask why?”

Anakin grimaced.

“Cause we both know the alternative to defying the Council and-by proxy-the Light Side of the Force” he said hoarsely. “I can’t live-I couldn’t _die_ in any sort of peace knowing you’d gone Sith because of me.”

Grey eyes softened slightly in the wake of his declaration.

“I promise you that if you...if you…” he swallowed and ducked his head before continuing. “I promise I won’t use the Force for ill or for the harm of innocents.” 

The younger man’s stomach dropped.

“That’s not what I asked” he said flatly.

Obi-Wan clasped his mechanical hand gently, tracing the leather underside that faced his palm.

“I know, and I’m sorry I can’t promise you more...but I won’t lie to you. I’ve had my heart broken once because of how the Order affects people’s ability to be honest with each other….”

“...I won’t let it happen again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N** : Shorter chapter. *Glares at keyboard*. I'd initially finished this chapter with 700 less words but I kept going back and adding detail because that was too short for me. I had to make myself stop or it would have been an excerpt that was entirely description and little to no vocabulary. I hope Obi-Wan's state of mind doesn't seem too extreme, but I feel like the Council pulled the wool over his eyes while thoroughly brainwashing Anakin which just felt desperately shitty to me. What do you think? Thanks for reading! 
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	10. Tractor Pulls

_”We should move him, immediately, before Kenobi wakes up.”_

_”Is that really necess-”_

_”Are you questioning me, Vokara??”_

_”Yes, **Mace** I am questioning you. Skywalker is my patient!”_

Obi-Wan tensed as the voices of his fellow Masters filtered into his barely-conscious brain. At some point during the night, he had stretched out horizontally on the couch. Anakin, with nowhere else to go, had apparently decided to lie on top of him; his head pillowed on the upper part of his shoulder, organic hand slid between the layers of his tunics, and his legs betwixt Obi-Wan’s slightly open ones. The blanket covering them was warm but not particularly heavy, and the older man suppressed a slight shiver. His former padawan had fallen asleep almost immediately after being given the dose, and he supposed he must have done so as well not long after. 

”This is the first time Knight Skywalker has gone nearly the entire night without a dose” Che was hissing furiously. ”Do you _really_ expect me to condone you separating them?!”

“The Council has voted” came a different voice; Luminara’s this time. “Yoda has emphasized the need to separate them.

“You will condone this if you wish to maintain your position and your place in this Temple” Mace continued. “You have other patients who need you, I hope you would not be so selfish as to rob them of your care simply because of a disagreement.”

The silence was so thick it was suffocating.

“I am ashamed of these actions” Che said, her voice low and disbelieving. ”But you've played your cards well, I have other patients who need me...you are correct.”

There was the sound of brisk footsteps and the hiss of the door being closed. Obi-Wan thought furiously. He’d made a grave mistake falling asleep in Anakin’s rooms. The Council didn’t know about his Force-Vision, and even if they did it was highly likely they would pass it off as traumatic residue from Corellia. He was almost positively certain if he let them move Anakin, he would never see him again. They were perfectly capable of relocating him off-planet to a different Temple or even a Shrine. They would see his gravitation back to him as a manipulation by his former padawan if he didn’t stand up for him. Obi-Wan had let Anakin take far too many for the team in the past few years and he refused to do it anymore. Underneath all this was a quietly simmering fury over the fact that his fellow Masters would have been perfectly happy to let Anakin die without saying a word to him. They’d smiled at him, greeted him cordially while carrying _death_ on their shoulders. It was monstrous. 

“Let’s hurry” Mace snapped. “I have important things to do today. You lift him, I’ll maintain.”

Obi-Wan felt a tug in the Force, one that was lifting Anakin off of him and away. Instinctively, he reached out and yanked him back; Luminara’s gasp of surprise causing him to open his eyes and glare squarley at them. 

“Obi-Wan-” the Mirialan Jedi began, but she was abruptly cut short.

He didn’t know what Mace saw in his expression, but it was evidently sinister enough that he raised a hand and attempted to enact a Sleep Command. 

“Sl-”

_”-No.”_

He countered effortlessly, without thought; lashing out with a broad green Force tendril that was a mix of their combined Signatures. Windu was thrown against the wall with enough Force that it brought plaster down from the ceiling. He didn’t lose consciousness, but it was clear from the way his face became a wide-eyed mask that he was in a considerable amount of pain. Obi-Wan held him there with an outstretched arm, acknowledging Anakin’s alarmed return to wakefulness with a gentle, soothing push of reassurance across their Bond. Luminara appeared to have frozen, her expression fearful and guilt-ridden all at once. 

“I have quite a bit I’d like do and say” Obi-Wan said thinly. “Luckily for both of you, there are more pressing matters on my mind.” He took a deep breath. “You will lift the proximity ban on both of us...as it is very obviously not helping. I will be irrevocably involved in Anakin’s recovery, and if you see fit to prevent it, I’ll be happy to bring in outside influence.” 

Luminara’s eyes widened.

“You don’t mean…”

“-I dislike Palpatine” Obi-Wan aceded. “All suspicions aside however, he has his physical welfare at utmost priority. Since you obviously don’t seem to, I _will_ mete out that advantage to as high a degree as necessary.”

“We will need a full Council Session to come to a decision” Windu snarled, having apparently regained his ability to speak.

“Then you’d better go have it” Obi-Wan said cheerfully. “I’m not going anywhere, I don’t trust either of you as far as I can throw you.” 

He released Windu and watched as the bald Jedi Master stumbled slightly before quickly regaining his footing, one hand drifting to his lightsaber. 

“I wouldn’t do that” Anakin snarled, sitting up abruptly and fixing him with a hair-raising glare. Both of Obi-Wan’s collegues startled at the swiftness of his rise from somnolence. “I’ve let you pass a lot of shit onto me so you can save face” the younger man spat. “But if you hurt Obi-Wan it’ll be the last thing you do.”

“Anakin” Luminara said gently. “We’re just trying to help you. Both of you.”

“No” he said derisively. “You’re trying to be in _control_. None of you ever knew what to do with me, you never tried to get to know me or give me a chance. You judged me because I was too old and too powerful.” He swung his legs over the side of the couch and rose, stalking up to Windu to stand squarely in front of him. “You have _failed_ ” he continued coldly. “Not only that, but in your stupid attempts to corral me, you’ve broken so many Maxims and Creeds it’s disgraceful. All I’ve _ever_ done is cover your asses. I’ve been shot for the Order, tortured, broken and belittled and the only reward I get on coming back is a tongue-lashing. I won’t be your scapegoat anymore, and if you’re smart, you’ll remember that.”

It seemed as if Windu was prepared to take him up on his offer of combat, but it was very obvious that Luminara would have no part it in. Obi-Wan felt a pang of sympathy for her; she was very obviously conflicted between duty and integrity..he’d been in that position time and time again; it was an ugly place to be. He doubted that Mace could successfully subdue both him and Anakin. Neither of them would go quietly and if he didn’t incapacitate his former padawan within a set amount of time it would be a fight to the death. Anakin was feeling angry enough and betrayed enough to do something irreversible, he could feel it in their Bond; and he hoped beyond hope that the elder Master could feel it as well. Anakin was suffering withdrawals...he was panicked and defensive and unwilling to listen to reason. Obi-Wan knew it was justified, but he also knew that this was exactly the kind of thing the Council would use to their disadvantage. 

The moment hung suspended, Knight facing Master with neither of them backing down from their offensive positions. Obi-Wan was nowhere near as powerful as Anakin, and Windu had never seen fit to criticize him unduly, but his vendetta against his former padawan was long and fraught with resentment on both sides...neither man was any less guilty than the other when it came to baiting and petty regimes. Anakin held a vicious grudge against Windu for how he’d treated him as a padawan learner and Windu disliked Anakin’s freedom of mind and tendency towards disobeyal. If one of them snapped, it would be ugly...even with Obi-Wan and Luminara working together, he seriously doubted they’d be able to stop the bloodbath that would follow. Yoda had never outright agreed with his second-in-command’s assessment of the younger man, but he’d never done anything to stop it either, and Obi-Wan didn’t like to think of what might happen if the Grand Master was forced to choose a side. 

Abruptly, Mace stepped back and nodded at Luminara who hastened to him, the relief on her face evident. Anakin relaxed minimally, backtracking to stand in front of the couch; one hand reaching behind him to steady himself...his fingers trembling. 

“We will confer with Master Yoda” Mace said, his lips barely moving. His gaze bored into Obi-Wan. “If I have my way, you’ll be dismissed from the Council.”

“Thank goodness you’re not the only one on it” the auburn-haired Jedi replied wearily. “May the Force be with you.” 

The dark-skinned Master swept out of the room without a word, Luminara hesitated; walking towards the door before turning back abruptly.

“May the Force be with you as well” she murmured. “Both of you. May it be with all of us.” 

Anakin visibly slumped the moment she exited, his knees giving out as he slid down the couch and onto the floor; covering his face with his hands. Sitting up, Obi-Wan put a gentle hand on his shoulder, carding the other through his hair as he let him gather his composure. Anakin was so _thin_. He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him; after weeks confined to a cell and then to the Medical Wings, he didn’t know what he’d expected...but it was still a shock to feel the hard jut of clavicle under his fingers rather than the usual flex of defined muscle. He grimly determined to ensure that the younger man got a few hours of exercise along with a proper diet and plenty of sleep. 

“Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan ventured. A wordless nod was his response, along with a helpless gesture towards a gauze-covered arm. “I’ll comm Che.” 

Dipping his fingers into his pocket, he bitterly reflected on the fact that he should have stood up for Anakin sooner. If he hadn’t been so determined to follow the Code, he might have saved them a lot of grief. 

**_*”Che here.*_ **

“Yes, Vokara, this is Kenobi. Could I bother you to send a droid up with something for Anakin to eat along with his next dose?”

There was a pause, and he imagined that the Twi’lek Healer was somewhat in a state of shock.

**_*”Yes, of course. Am I to assume that this means Knight Skywalker will be remaining under my care?”*_ **

“For now” Obi-Wan said dryly. “I understand if this is a conflict of ethics.”

 ** _*“On the contrary, I’m glad to see someone has their head on straight”*_** was the somewhat amused reply. **_*”I’d like to say I was participating in the emergency Council meeting that’s just been called, but I was...emphatically informed that I was not needed. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”*_**

“Thank you, Kenobi out.” Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face and turned back to Anakin, who was looking decidedly mutinous despite his obvious exhaustion. “There’s nothing we can do at this point but hope that the Council comes to a conclusion that benefits your recovery.”

The younger man snorted.

“Fat chance. Windu would dance naked in the Chancellor’s Office before hearing that he hadn’t got his way.”

The older man grimaced.

“While that makes for a frankly nauseating mental picture, I have to have some faith in the rest of the Council. They were there for all of it, after all. This isn’t an isolated mission with only our reports to back us up.”

His former padawan made a noncommittal sound before pushing himself off the floor and steadying himself on the arm of the couch. 

“M’gonna take a shower.” 

Obi-Wan watched as he stumbled into what he assumed was the sleeping portion of the room, eyeing his obviously unsteady gait before shoving his comm back in his pocket and settling down cross-legged on the floor to meditate. It didn’t help him much anymore, but it was still better than sitting around doing nothing. The more he focused on the Force, the greater the possibility of his ability to harness his emotions again. The hiss of the shower soon filled the silence, and he used it as an auditory nuance to concentrate on...pulling his awareness inwards. It wasn’t long before a soft knock at the door forced him to abandon his efforts with little success. Che was carrying two covered styrofoam trays and balancing a cup of tea in the other hand. She smiled at his questioning look.

“You were here all night” she supplied. “I thought you might like something to eat as well, and I’ve heard of your fondness for tea.” 

“More like his _rampant, incurable obsession_ ” Anakin remarked, stepping into the room and toweling his hair dry. 

“There are far worse things to be passionate about” Obi-Wan said loftily, taking the cup from Vokara reverently and cradling it between his palms. “Thank you.”  
The blonde snorted and tore open the lid to his breakfast, barely blinking when Che swept forward and took his arm so she could change his dressings. In brighter light, Anakin’s arm looked like it had been squeezed by an unforgiving pressure and then punctured with several weeping wounds. At his horrified expression, Vokara grimaced.

“The serum prevents proper wound healing” she explained, drawing a bottle of bacta from her pocket and tipping it onto some gauze. “I don’t know what Higii used to remedy the wounds on your necks, and you seem to be unaffected, but his body doesn’t react to it well. It’s almost like he’s allergic to it.” 

Obi-Wan frowned.

“Have you tested it thoroughly?”

The Master Healer looked insulted. 

“Of course we have, and there aren’t any substances in it that inhibit healing. He goes through hemostasis, inflammation and proliferation, but something is stopping maturation.” 

“Is there anything particularly _odd_ that stands out about the formula?”

Che paused to consider his question, her hands systematically re-wrapping Anakin’s arm as she thought. 

“There was one” she said quietly. “It’s...a peptide gene actually, most call it agoutai. It’s reserved to felines...especially domesticated ones, and determines the appearance of their coats. When taking into account Anakin’s blonde coloring...I was inclined to believe Higii was attempting to recreate the lethal allele in his subjects, and it was easier for him to recreate it in him because he’s already a natural blond.” She applied a gauze clip and began searching for a vein. “I don’t know if he necessarily _knew_ that Anakin was a more viable subject, but it does bear to keep it in mind.” 

“I thought the lethal allele only applied to rodents” Obi-Wan muttered, diving far into his instructional memory to recall specifics of genetics. 

“Normally, yes” Che aceded. “But since Higii was infamous for creating substances that caused either instant death or loss of autonomy, it would make sense that he would try to recreate genetic anomalies via injection. It’s cleaner than poison because it doesn’t affect systems you’d expect to find poison in, it affects genes and causes mutations that kill over time.” 

“You said felines” the Master muttered. “Anakin is allergic to lothkittens.” 

Vokara grimaced.

“I thought of that too, but just because an injection carries a genetic trait prominent in feline coat-coloring doesn’t mean that’s what is affecting him. In any case, tests to determine if it indeed _is_ the cause of his inability to heal injection sites would take months and that is time we don’t have. Our focus is getting him off the substance entirely, not making it more tolerable to receive.”

The older man watched as Anakin dumped a ridiculous amount of shuura nectar on his oatmeal and stirred perfunctorily. 

“I suppose allergines play into genetics, don’t they?” 

“They do” Che mumbled, holding a disinfectant packet between his teeth. “But interrelation isn’t relevant, and I can’t pursue it with what little supply we have.” 

“Can you recreate it?”

“We don’t have the formula” was the regretful reply. “And we don’t have the time to properly analyze it.” 

Sipping his tea, Obi-Wan watched with a small amount of satisfaction as Anakin tossed back what appeared to be a small mountain of pills with his drink, rose to throw his empty tray into the recycler then returned to receive the injection. The shaking in his limbs was noticeable now, though it was also apparent that he was doing his best to suppress it. Che administered the dose and threw the needle into a biohazard bag before rising to return to the door. Anakin was already a picture of slack-jawed indifference that made Obi-Wan’s heart twist.

“His vitals will be monitored from afar” the Master Healer commented. “If anything extreme happens feel free to comm me at any time.” 

“Thank you.” 

The door hissed shut and Obi-Wan busied himself with finishing his own breakfast and nursing his tea with a kind of fervent desperation. Anakin had crawled up onto the couch and was watching him blearily, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“C’mere” he muttered when the older man had rid himself of his tray. 

Obi-Wan was reluctant to have any sort of meaningful conversation with his former padawan when he was so obviously not altogether lucid, but he didn’t want to deprive him of social comfort either. Upon sitting down, the younger man slumped onto his chest; mechanical hand reaching up to card absentmindedly across his beard before tilting his chin downwards so their lips could meet. Almost immediately, Obi-Wan was accosted by the same intoxicating, nearly venomous desire that he’d felt on Corellia. Anakin’s lips were rough but warm; his breath somewhat citrusty from whatever Che had provided him with. He responded immediately, automatically, as if kissing him was an everyday thing rather than something they’d done in a situation of total desperation and despair. His former padawan’s organic hand slid across his lap to twine their fingers together, mouth opening hungrily as his tongue swiped gently across the crease of Obi-Wan’s lips; requesting entry. It was obvious even then that Anakin wasn’t entirely aware of what he was doing. Their Bond was as bright and synchronous as ever, but the brilliant yellow that was Anakin’s section of their Signature was somewhat dulled and hazy. As much as he _wanted_ Anakin, he couldn’t do so when he was so apparently detached from logical thinking. The younger man made a noise of protest when he pulled away, but quieted when Obi-Wan pulled him closer.

“I won’t take advantage of you” he murmured. “You’re not thinking straight.” 

“I love you” Anakin protested somewhat halfheartedly, his eyes drooping. 

“I...love you too” Obi-Wan replied, stubbornly pushing down the rush of panic that suffused him as he uttered the words. “And that’s _exactly_ why I won’t do what you want me to right now.” 

There was no reply, but only because his comrade-in-arms was already asleep. Tilting his head back, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and begged the Force for something intrinsically life-saving for both of them. They were tired, apprehensive, and hopelessly attached...but there had to be some saving grace in the fact that they were good for each other. The Chosen One slept for twelve hours without waking for a dose even once. By that time, the Council had called for both of them to report to the High Chambers for an evaluation. 

Obi-Wan did not leave his lightsaber behind, and neither did Anakin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** So, I have a few paths I'm considering for the next chapter, but I'm pretty sure I don't want Anakin and Obi-Wan defecting. I already have a Dark-side concept lined up for a different fic (though there's no telling when I'll begin to post that. I've honestly written so much in the past year that I feel like my brain is a clogged sponge) and I don't want to overlap plot concepts so egregiously that I don't have anything new to work with. Windu obviously needs to be spanked. 
> 
> Important note: I know the concept of Obi-Wan going to Palpatine for help is pretty disgusting, and that's kind of why i put it in there; to highlight the scale of their desperation. Just to be clear, Obi-Wan does _not_ like Palpatine, but he knows how much influence he has, and how greatly he 'cares' for Anakin. As The Negotiator, he knows he sometimes has to pull punches that aren't necessarily appealing. And, keep in mind, he doesn't know that he's a Sith yet. 
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	11. Breathing Through Your Skin

The calculating stares of the Masters were unnerving. 

Shifting from one foot to the other, Anakin reflected that he’d never particularly liked the Council Chambers. There was a time when he’d associated the place with opportunity for status or power, but now he just wanted to see it burned to the ground. He’d given too many a report here, looked upon with judgement, disappointment, and derision. As much as he’d _wanted_ to be a good Jedi, it seemed like he was always running up against someone who didn’t want him to be anything at all. The Council had always made the mistake of associating his rebellion and recklessness with the title of _Chosen One_. Anakin had known of his prowess and power from a very young age, and as such, he was automatically assumed to be using his abilities flagrantly because he thought he was special. This was-of course-about as far from the truth as you could get, but it didn’t stop anyone from drawing conclusions. 

Anakin hadn’t heard from Ahsoka since he’d banned her from his medical suite, and he was pretty sure he’d hurt her feelings. He couldn’t blame her, but it was painful to acknowledge his actions as the source of her distance. Obi-Wan had always told him that no Master wanted to hurt their padawan or give them reason to think they weren’t wanted. He felt as if he’d done just that, even if his intentions had been to keep her from worrying. Word was that Kit had taken up her training in his stead, and as much as he wanted to be resentful of it, he couldn’t be. He was in no place to instruct his padawan...neither of them would benefit from fruitless training sessions that banked on whether or not he was lucid. Kit was kind, patient, and understanding...and like Ahsoka, he was a humanoid spieces from an exotic planet, something Anakin was sure would help them hit it off right from the start. It would be good for her to train with someone who could offer her a different viewpoint. As hard as he had tried to keep up with her instruction, he’d had to acknowledge that there were some things he could not teach Ahsoka...and now she was finally getting that opportunity. 

Looking to his left, Anakin felt a pang of bitterness at the obvious anxiety on Obi-Wan’s face. His Master stood close to him, but the sensation of separation he always felt when they were around other Jedi was almost painful. His former Master had sacrificed a lot to mentor him. Even though he’d only just been Knighted, Obi-Wan already had a padawan assigned to him, one with an enormous prophecy on his head that could determine the Fate of the Jedi. More than once, Anakin had caught senior Jedi staring at his Master with resentment and doubt. A man barely into his twenties couldn't _possibly_ keep such a powerful Force-Sensitive in line, and Anakin’s heart ached to think that his younger self had gone to great lengths to prove them right. It wasn’t intentional...as a child, he’d had barely any concept of the complex hierarchies in the Order...but he sometimes wished he’d paid more attention. Despite the opinions of others, Obi-Wan had never taken his troubles out on his padawan. He came home from Council Meetings with a weary face only to sweep it under the rug in order to give Anakin his full attention. 

_”Your mind is very noisy”_ Obi-Wan remarked through their Bond.

Anakin blinked. 

_”Sorry, it’s better than getting mad about all this._

_”A little shielding would not go unappreciated”_ was the somewhat pained reply. _”It feels like you’re vibrating my brain.”_

_”Mace looks like he wants to disembowel you”_ the younger man commented blithely. 

_”Yes, well I’ve put ‘don’t meet Mace Windu in dark alleyways’ as a top priority on my ‘to do’ list.”_ His former Master’s lip twitched. _”It’s right up there with ‘don’t let Anakin turn off autopilot on high speed missions unless absolutely necessary.’”_

“Gathered we are to discuss Knight Skywalker’s recovery” Yoda began in his gravelly voice. “Refused to separate from each other, he and Master Kenobi have.” His depthless gaze focused on Obi-Wan. “Hear your reasoning behind this decision, we will.”

There was a moment of silence as his former Master gathered his thoughts, and Anakin desperately hoped they weren’t up for another convoluted dialogue on the niceties of the Code and the duty of a Jedi to protect his comrades. 

“Anakin isn’t- _wasn’t_ -recovering” Obi-Wan stated bluntly, and the flatness in his voice was startling. “You neglected to inform me of this, along with the fact that should his progress continue to flag, he would be dead in less than two weeks’ time. As much as I agree with distance for the sake of preservation, he was still my padawan, and he has still been my friend.”

“But he is not your padawan” Mace said harshly. “He is a Knight, separate from any concept of duty you might have had towards him. Skywalker’s path is conjoined with yours in the sense that he is your fellow Jedi, but that is the _only_ thing you have in common. Anything else is emotionalism, which is a direct violation of the Code.”

“And yet we have a Forcebond that-once severed by the death of either of us-could cause unmitigated mental damage” was the irritated reply. “I’m curious, did any of you bother to consider that?” 

“Your Forcebond is a mutation of your Padawan Bond” the dark-skinned Master snapped. “A Bond that should have been severed the minute Skywalker was Knighted, but you again neglected to listen to our orders and instead used it as an advantage on the battlefield. What you’ve done is something the Order hasn’t encountered in hundreds of years, it’s _not normal_ and it is not healthy.” 

“So, in the face of the unknown, you decided to attempt to eradicate it by isolating Anakin and keeping me in the dark” Obi-Wan scoffed. “Forgive me if I’m not exactly sympathetic to your cause, especially when your logic is so flawed.”

This drove Yoda’s second-in-command out of his chair, the anger in his expression barely restrained behind a mask of cold superiority. 

“Do you want to know what’s _really_ wrong with your Bond?” Mace sneered, and the venom in his voice earned him raised eyebrows from the rest of the Council. “It’s a _Sith_ technique Masters use on their apprentices to keep them compliant. It’s an abuse of attachment and power and the only way to subvert it is with the death of one of the recipients. Why do you think Sith apprentices are so driven to kill their Masters? That Bond is _dangerous_ , it gives both of you far too much power over each other.” 

Anakin felt his veins freeze at Windu’s statement. He was tempted to refute it, but at the same time it made sense, and none of the other elder Masters had bothered to counter his point. 

“You expect me to believe that Sith Masters have...relations with their initiates?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously. “Siths who choose successors are more often than not at _least_ three times older than their apprentices. I know the Dark Side of the Force is rife with corruption but surely we’re stepping into the realm of fantasy here.” 

“Sith Masters put their initiates through terrible mental trauma” Luminara replied gently. “Over and over again, bringing them to the brinks of death and insanity only to snatch them back at the last moment. It’s called Darkbinding, and creates a degree of reliance that can’t be hindered by intervention once completed, which is why so many Sith apprentices have died rather than handing themselves over. Physical intimacy has nothing to do with it, though I wouldn’t put it past a Sith Lord to sexually manipulate his apprentice. Higii used both of you against one another to create situations that caused you immense physical and psychological pain. Your psyches recognized one another as centerpieces of both agony and serenity, and the dependence it caused mirrors that of Darkbinding.”

“And you thought that it would be a good idea to let Anakin waste away in order to sever that tie” Obi-Wan said dryly. When his words were met with silence, he huffed. “Honestly, even if the cerebral complexities are the same, neither Anakin nor I are allied with the Dark. Our Bond has never been Dark. I don’t understand how you can overlook something like that.”

“Your Bond appears bright to you, but to us it’s an insidious entity” Luminara murmured. “It’s an immense threat to both of you.” 

“We can’t do anything to make this better without each other” Anakin said, speaking up for the first time. “I’ve been able to get off the Moondust for longer and longer now that Obi-Wan is helping me.” He folded his arms. “Sorry, but to me it just seems like you want me dead so that Obi-Wan can continue to be your brainwashed mind-slave.” 

“And that mindset is why we’ve always watched you with skepticism” Windu replied, returning to his seat. “The Jedi are an ancient Order, and our rules have existed longer than anyone on this Council has been alive. And yet at every turn you defy our rules...scoff at them even. Your perception of us is that of a cult, not the protectors of the Galaxy.”

“Can you really blame him, in the face of all this?” Obi-Wan countered, weariness creeping into his voice for the first time. “I’m starting to understand why Qui-Gon was so bitter towards us near the end of his life.”

“Hmmm, resistant to change we are” Yoda agreed, his ears drooping. “Listen, we do not. Judge, we do.”

Mace looked gobsmacked.

“You can’t possibly agree with them” he exclaimed. “Everything about this screams insubordination!”

“Parents the Council are not” Yoda replied. “Guides we should be, but to determine the life and death of another, we cannot.”

“The Force decides who lives and dies” Vos commented. “I said this in our last meeting, and I’ll say it again, we can’t subvert life in favor of convenience. If we do, we become as much a mechanism of the Sith as the Separatists “

“Skywalker and Kenobi have been massive assets to the Order” Fisto cut in. “Can we, in good conscience condemn one of them to death simply because we don’t understand their connection?”

There was silence, and each Master appeared to be considering their thoughts. Anakin grudgingly admitted he was just uncomfortable. After spending weeks confined to small rooms, his legs were protesting at being made to stand for so long, and he could feel the beginnings of withdrawal symptoms starting to creep up on him. Obi-Wan appeared to be less physically disgruntled, but he was obviously struggling to maintain his composure. Anakin didn’t think he’d ever seen him so disappointed in the Council before. 

“A proposal, I have” Yoda said idly. All eyes in the room turned to him. “Leave you will take, on Spira.” He raised his hand as Mace attempted to butt in. “For leisure this leave is not, meditate you both must, a decision you must make. Outdated, the Order may be, but unreliable it is not...follow our ways many Jedi do. An exception you are not, and an exception we will not make. When your leave is finished, return you will with your Bond broken.” He paused and Windu sat back looking smug. “Or, return you will not. Renounce your vows you will, Jedi no longer. Agreed we are?”

The majority of the Masters in the room murmured their assent.

“How long will we have?” Obi-Wan queried. 

The Grand Master’s gaze moved over them contemplatively.

“Three weeks we will give you, no more, no less.” 

“This is-”

“-The Council has spoken” Yoda said firmly, effectively silencing Mace. “Dismissed you are, may the Force be with you.”

Somewhat blindsided by their sudden ability to choose their Fate, Anakin’s _’and with you’_ was slightly delayed. As a result, he was left to wander out of the chambers in his former Master’s wake. When they’d put an acceptable amount of distance between them and the Council, Obi-Wan stopped and slumped against the wall. Anakin swallowed, feeling incurably guilty.

“I’m sorry you have to make this choice, Master” he said quietly.

“I’m not” Obi-Wan muttered, placing a hand over his eyes. “And I’m not your Master anymore.”

“You want to leave the Order?” the younger man asked incredulously.

Slowly, the Jedi Master lowered his hand to look contemplatively at Anakin.

“I...I don’t know” he admitted. “I...right _now_ I’m angry at the Council for trying to deceive me. Maybe that will change while we’re away, I can’t really say.” He attempted a halfhearted smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. “What about you?”

Anakin lowered his eyes. 

“I...like being a Jedi” he began uncertainly. “Hear me out” he pleaded upon feeling Obi-Wan’s slight mental retreat. “I like helping people, I like working with the troops and I like missions.” He grinned lopsidedly. “I like _fighting_ , but when we get back here I just feel like a fish out of water. I don’t belong here...I’ve _never_ belonged here.”

Obi-Wan’s expression was understanding.

“We have time to think about it more” he replied, turning away. 

Anakin caught his sleeve and he turned back with a raised brow. The younger man cleared his throat and let his hand slide from coarse fabric to soft fingers, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. 

“More than all that though...it’s this” he continued, his voice rough with emotion. “When I look at you, I want you. Our Bond...it’s like...you’re breathing in my skin...in my head.” 

Obi-Wan had stiffened and glanced both ways to make sure they were alone, but his expression softened at Anakin’s words and he swiped his thumb across the younger man’s palm before letting go.

“You’re not alone in how you feel” he murmured. “But the Council is right about the Bond giving us a frightening amount of power over each other.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Anakin asked tentatively, dreading the answer. 

At this, Obi-Wan huffed and rolled his eyes, grasping Anakin’s elbow and brushing their lips against each other, pulling back when the younger man leaned in to deepen the gesture. 

“I taught you” Obi-Wan” said gently. “I’ve fought with you, we’ve mended each other’s wounds and shared our time for over a decade. I know your likes and dislikes, your moods and your indifferences. I don’t fear you because every inch of you is familiar to me.” 

Anakin grinned. 

“Kinda hard to fear someone who used to put your cloak over his head and pretend to be a Tusken.”

“Quite” Obi-Wan said dryly. “But Anakin, just because you enjoy physical intimacy doesn’t mean you have to...tie yourself to me indefinitely.” 

The younger man felt insulted. 

“Do you really think I’d choose you over the Order lightly?” he demanded. 

“No” was the sighed response. “But...I’m your _first_ Anakin...your very first. You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what it feels like to be with a woman...or at least someone else. I’m old, I’m not going to be around forever.”

Anakin muttered a curse and gently pulled Obi-Wan back to him, clutching his upper-forearm with his mechanical hand and bumping their foreheads against each other.

“I want only you” he muttered. “Thinking about being with anyone else is gross.” He paused. “...Unless you don’t want to be stuck with me?”

Obi-Wan made a disgusted noise. 

 

“Oh, don’t even try that with me” he muttered.

Anakin pulled back and feigned a concerned look.

“I don’t know Obi-Wan...maybe you’re looking for someone more… _mature?_ ”

This time, the older man couldn’t contain the laughter that spilled from his mouth.

“Oh, yes, _me_ , Obi-Wan Kenobi; nearly forty and pursued by the media’s golden-haired poster-boy with a totally virgin concept of sex and romance. Poor me. I need someone far more mature” he scoffed.

“Well now you’re just making yourself sound like a flake.”

The older man raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe I am.”

Anakin snorted.

“C’mon, you’re so tightly laced I’m surprised you don’t suffocate yourself.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He appeared to sober. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Right now, our focus is to get to Spira and seriously examine our emotions regarding all of this...not just each other.” He looked curiously at Anakin. “Have you ever been to Spira?”

Anakin shook his head.

“No way. It’s a vacation planet, remember? We’re Jedi, we don’t go to vacation planets.” 

“I escorted a Senator there during a time of political tension” Obi-Wan mused. “I didn’t get to see much of it, but what I did see was quite beautiful.” 

“For leisure, this leave is not” Anakin mimicked, imitating Yoda’s pensive scowl. “Enjoy yourselves, you must not.” 

“I don’t remember that last part” the older man replied, looking slightly mischievous. “I don’t know about you, but I intend to mete this out to its fullest.” 

“Mmm” the blonde replied as they turned and began to walk again. “What is it you always say? _’Anakin, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the finer things in life.’_ ”

“That was in reference to your criticism of my thread-count. I’ll have you know my sheets have lasted far longer than yours. Besides, you’re the one with six containers of premium Nabooinian seasoning under your bed.” 

Anakin gaped at him.

“You _know_ about that?!”

“I know Serhci-spiced Sulyet when I taste it. You were guilty the second I took my first bite. I found the rest when you sent me in to retrieve your boots a few months afterwards, you never were good at keeping secrets.” 

“Yeah well, neither are you.” 

“I’ve never claimed to be overly-complex” was the lofty reply. 

Anakin snorted again.

“Obi-Wan, the day you’re complex will be the day the Sith we’ve been chasing falls off his speeder and smashes through the glass of the Council Chamber with a full session going. It’s impossible, it’s not happening. But you know what? I love you for it, and you’re just gonna have to deal with that ‘till the day we die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Darkbinding: made up, though the concept of dependence-centered torture probably isn't all that far off.  
>  I'm sorry I've taken so long to update, but you wouldn't believe my week if I told it to you. Life decided to eat me raw and spit me out completely mangled. Thank you for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**
> 
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> 
> **Edit:** I will get to your comments I'm just having to run out the door right this minute.


	12. Immeasurable Temptations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *shakes the fluffinator* *fluffinator explodes*

Spira was breathtaking.

When Anakin had stated that Jedi went to few leisure planets, he hadn’t been lying. Unless they went as guards or diplomatic representatives, pleasure planets were a thing of imagination and speculation. Naboo had been beautiful, but its educational, agricultural and political standing in the Galaxy didn’t allow it a recreational title. The Nabooinian people were far too embroiled in Core mechanisms to give their home-world over to tourism and luxury. Alderaan was of similar status, with rolling, lush mountains and valleys and a massive political stance.

Spira itself was largely comprised of ocean; with large and small island chains dotting its surface. These islands varied in elevation; some with great plunging crags that ended in swift, forbidding drop-offs to the water below. Others were perfectly flat and covered in glittering white sand that reflected sunlight in a crystalline explosion of translucent white. Still more held gradual mountainous slopes exploding with tropical vegetation; colorful birds roamed in multi-hued flocks and the beaches were strewn with shells of different shapes and colors. The Tourist Guild had given these islands the most attention; setting up endless hiking paths with scenic camping areas and providing maps with ‘mystery trails’ that led to cool mountain-fed springs and eco-friendly huts. 

The Council had rented them a cottage on Yolun Isle; a large but sparsely inhabited island reserved for political figures in need of discretion and privacy. It was about forty miles long and two wide, with an abundance of waterfalls and hidden attractions that their staff informed them were the best on all of Spira. While Obi-Wan appreciated the Council’s efforts to give them space, he acknowledged that it was to save face only. With the off-season in full swing, the only person they met upon their arrival was their guide, who went to great lengths to assure them of Spira’s ability to be circumspect.

Anakin was down to one injection of Higii’s serum per day and it showed. The color was coming back to his cheeks, and he was slowly but steadily regaining the muscle mass he had so obviously lost. Obi-Wan had made a point to move him back to their quarters three days after their meeting with the Council, and they’d spend their time watching holomovies and-as Anakin called it- _cuddling._ Obi-Wan called it close-proximity meditation. The Council had maintained their distance, and if he was completely honest with himself, it was a little worrisome. His trust for the Order was at its bare-minimal at best, and he disliked the idea of being uninformed and uninvolved. It put him on edge, and it made Anakin slightly paranoid. He’d walked in on him hacking the Archive feeds and given him a dreadful scolding. Obi-Wan didn’t really blame him, but if he was caught it would just give the Order more ammunition to use against them and that was the last thing they needed right now. If they found themselves sitting around with too much time to think, one or both of them eventually wandered off to meditate, alone or together. With Anakin near him, Obi-Wan found he was able to find at least some semblance of comfort in his favorite pastime again, even if his former padawan teased him relentlessly for it. Their Bond was an excellent anchor for psychic observance, and even if he didn’t necessarily agree with using it as a crutch, it still helped.

All things aside, the cottage was beautiful. Set a little bit back from their landing point on the beach, it was small but cozy, with dark wood exterior paneling and honey-colored lattice that framed split-pane windows and a deep mahogany double door. The inside was simplistic, sporting a living area in cool beach-tones with a generous scattering of shells and a kitchen area with a bar facing outwards to the living room where Obi-Wan excitedly reflected that he could watch Anakin make breakfast. Most of the furniture was either a soft creme color or a gentle sky-blue that reflected the daytime vista outdoors. There was a rudimentary amalgamator, toaster, kettle, coffee pot, and stove but all other electronics were conspicuously absent. When asked, their guide explained that the facility was built to encourage the inhabitants to enjoy their time outdoors, which made sense when one thought about it. 

The bedroom area was communal, with two enormously fluffy-looking mattresses placed on opposite sides of the room and a ‘fresher directly on the left. The rear of the cottage was entirely comprised of glass and looked out at the head of a hiking trail that came right up to the sliding doors and slowly disappeared into the jungle. A small storage closet nestled into the short hallway leading to the sleeping area was filled with a myriad of camping and hiking equipment, including but not limited to backpacks, sleeping rolls, lanterns and tarps. 

If Anakin didn’t have mandibles, Obi-Wan was positive his jaw would be dragging along the ground behind them. From the minute they broke the atmosphere his former padawan had been positively awestruck, gripping the window of the transport shuttle with such intensity he feared it might pop off and send them flying into the stratosphere. Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure that Anakin would mind that. He recognized the expression on the younger man’s face almost immediately. It was the _’I want to explore absolutely everything, learn about absolutely everything and eat absolutely everything’_ expression he’d thought dead and buried with his maturity...but he was obviously woefully wrong. He promptly gave Anakin a lecture about not eating unfamiliar flora and to refrain from petting large fauna...especially ones with large pointy teeth. This earned him the _’seriously Master how old do you think I am?_ look, but his suspicions proved correct when Anakin began pulling fruit off a large tree in the front yard and eating it without preamble. It was-thankfully-not poisonous, but Obi-Wan spent the next hour dutifully glaring at his companion, who at least had the decency to look contrite...even if his fingers were stained bright orange. 

Their arrival was somewhat late in the afternoon, which didn’t leave them much time for exploring. While Spira encouraged nighttime activities, it was generally a good idea not to wander far from home base after dark on the first day. They were left with a rudimentary food box comprised of eggs, biscuits, bread, trail mix, cold cuts and assorted soups and drinks. While Anakin attempted to scrub the evidence of his flagrant disobedience out from under his nails, Obi-Wan wandered down to the beach to meditate. Upon coming to the edge of the dunes he toe’d off his boots and shoved his socks into them, acknowledging that the sand was incredibly soft and still warm from the gradually setting sun. Positioning himself atop a small drift, Obi-Wan took in the scent and sound of the sea; relishing the smell of salt and humid air as a large, blue bird eyed him suspiciously from the shoreline. The birdcalls hear were foreign but somehow soothing, with an eerily harmonic coagulation of notes that ended in a high-pitched trill. It was peaceful and idyllic, and he was immensely grateful for the opportunity to enjoy it. 

It wasn’t until the smell of Anakin’s cooking reached his nose that Obi-Wan dragged himself out of his meditative trance and began to trek back to the cottage. He kept his shoes off, preferring to set them outside the door and swipe his feet on the welcome mat before going inside. Anakin appeared to have found the ration box and was working the stove with careful precision. He’d tied his hair back with a strip of fabric and Obi-Wan reflected that it was getting rather ridiculously long again. Even at its current length it didn’t take away from the sharp masculinity of his features, and he acknowledged that even with stupidly lengthy locks he was dreadfully good-looking. 

“That’s tea there” Anakin commented, not looking up from his cooking and gesturing at the mug on the bar table. “Karlini, figured you might like some.”

Obi-Wan supressed the wash of indulgent pleasure that suffused his limbs with great difficulty.

“Thank you” he replied, sliding onto one of the stools and cupping the mug only to yelp in surprise. _”Tch!_

“Yeah well I told you it was tea and tea is generally supposed to be hot” was the sardonic remarked.

“You hush” he muttered, grasping the handle this time and bringing it to his lips. “Sugar?”

“No” the younger man replied, turning to look at him fully and looking sincerely regretful. “Wasn’t in the package anyway and there’s nothing in the cabinets.” He paused and thought. “I could squeeze some of that fruit, it’s pretty sweet.”

“Maybe tomorrow” Obi-Wan said, waving a dismissive hand. “This is fine for now.” His communicator beeped shrilly and they both winced. Pulling it out of his pocket, he grimaced. “Status check. I don’t know why they’re doing it.”

“Protocol” Anakin scoffed, pulling the saucepan off the stove. “You know how Plo Koon is.” He pulled bowls and spoons out of the cabinet, filling one and sliding it across the counter. “Sorry, it’s nothing fancy but I haven’t got a lot to go on.” 

“As long as it’s not Master Fee’s steamed spigage I think I’ll survive.”

The blonde grinned. 

“I remember that.” 

Obi-Wan felt a slight blush creep up his neck.

“Let’s not talk about that over dinner.” 

A throaty chuckle floated over from the stove.

“If you say so.” 

The soup was good, even if Anakin had been humble about it. It was obviously milkened tuber, but with a hint of citrus and dust-corn. Obi-Wan supposed the younger man must have brought his extensive spice-collection along, though where he could have stored it was beyond him. 

“Namana?” he asked idly.

Anakin paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth before he set it down and grinned.

“Nah, starfruit. That good huh?”

“I never said that” the Jedi Master replied hastily, picking his bowl up and orbiting the counter to reach the sink. 

“I haven’t had Namana since your thirtieth” the younger man mused. “Do you know how much that shit costs?” 

“ _I’m_ not the one who spends their stipend on culinary products” Obi-Wan muttered, grabbing a sani-cloth and pouring a generous amount of soap on it. “So no, I wouldn’t know.” 

“That’s right” Anakin said smugly. “You’re the one who spends your stipend on chocolate and bed-sheets.” When the older man decided such baiting didn’t garner a reply, he kept on it. “What would the Council say I wonder? _’An attachment to sweets, Obi-Wan has...too soft his bed is...against the Code such comforts are.’”_

“They won’t know if no one tells them” Obi-Wan replied pointedly, putting his dishes in the dryer and turning to raise an eyebrow at his former apprentice. 

“M’not telling” his comrade-in-arms protested, raising his hands. “Just...making a point.” 

Feeling his lips start to twitch, the Jedi Master turned to glance at the chronometer above the fireplace. 

“It’s 2200” he remarked, feeling somewhat surprised at how quickly time had passed. 

“Our leave doesn’t officially start until tomorrow” Anakin replied, dumping his bowl in the sink without preamble and walking away to grab the saucepan off the stove. Throwing a lid on it, he stuck it in the cooling unit. “Did you have something in mind for tonight?” he added, waggling his eyebrows.

Obi-Wan sighed.

“Nothing of… _that_ nature” he answered hesitantly. Seeing the younger man’s crestfallen expression, he plowed on. “I’m not saying it’s not tempting.” He huffed and folded his arms, leaning on the bar counter. “It’s damn near irresistible, but we need to...consolidate this, understand it before we take it further. You need to know…” he paused and swallowed. “On Corellia, you couldn’t give consent and I...I _took_ you knowing that regardless. It-it feels like I...I…” 

Anakin’s expression had softened. 

“You didn’t rape me” he said quietly.

 _”Didn’t_ I??” Obi-Wan demanded, failing to supress the slight hysteria that had crept into his voice. “I knew what I was doing...I could have stopped...I could have chosen to die instead.” 

“I’d never have forgiven you if you did” the younger man replied, setting a dishcloth down and moving around the counter to lean opposite him. Taking Obi-Wan’s hand, he squeezed it gently. “You were under the influence too, just as much as me.”

“But I’m older, more experienced” he protested, pulling his hand away. “I should have known better.” 

Anakin sighed.

“I hate to tell you this” he said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his tone. “But you’re not as old as you seem to think you are.” He smiled crookedly when Obi-Wan didn’t respond. “And you’re human Obi-Wan, you’re not perfect. There’s nothing wrong with not being perfect. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be perfect and it made me miserable. Trust me when I say that I’m a helluva lot happier knowing I’m not the poster-boy the media prints me out to be when I go to bed at night.” 

“Jedi strive for perfection.”

“Jedi strive for _Balance_...though I think the Council is forgetting that more and more. Can you really imagine an immaculate Order? That’s...that’s terrifying. Each Jedi brings something different to the table because we’re all individuals. If we were all cookie-cut out of the same mold we’d never get anywhere on missions...we wouldn’t have any creative thinking.” 

“Trust you to compare synonymity with baking cookies” the older man muttered. “But...I understand what you’re saying.” 

“Then you’ll understand why I want this” Anakin murmured, shifting tentatively; closing the gap between them with cautious observance. Raising his leather-gloved hand, he snaked an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and pulled him flush against him; lower his head so their mouths were inches apart. “I love you” he said raggedly. “I want you so much it hurts.” 

Those eyes would always be his undoing; those cerulean, sky-colored eyes with depths so immense it felt like falling into the trenches of the Naboo Abyss. Even the scar from Ventress couldn’t mar their appeal, and with the Bond between them vibrating with the cohesion of their emotions, it was an immeasurable temptation. 

“I...need time Anakin” he murmured, slightly breathless. “You-this-it’s so powerful. I know you don’t understand, but please, I’m not rejecting you.” To emphasize his point, he tilted his head to fit their lips together, shivering as the warmth of Anakin’s mouth sent an aching swell of arousal from his head to his toes. Lifting his hand, he ran a trembling thumb over the contour of the blonde’s jaw as he opened his mouth willingly, sliding his tongue between coral lips as he watched those ocean-colored eyes grow languid and lustful. 

“You-you’re-” Anakin mumbled against his mouth, before apparently giving up on speech. _“Mmm..”_

Sucking on that bottom lip-a lip that pouted _far_ too professionally in his opinion-Obi-Wan acknowledged the need to pull back before he was utterly submerged. With great effort, he withdrew, placing a perfunctory parting kiss on flushed skin before tilting his gaze up to see that while Anakin was _certainly_ aroused, he wasn’t pushing him. Running a steadying hand through his hair, he took several deep breaths.

“I’m not the...hello-goodbye type” he muttered. “I’ve done that, it’s...not gratifying for me. If we’re going to do this, I want to...woo you.” 

Anakin’s debauched expression was somewhat replaced by amused incredulity. 

“What...you want to bring me flowers and serenade me by moonlight?” he snickered. “Cause I gotta tell you Obi-Wan,. I’m not a hopeless romantic.”

The older man huffed.

“Kriff, Ani, I know that” he muttered. “I just...I want to-” he threw up his hands. “Normal people _date_.” 

Anakin should never have picked up the habit of chewing on his lips, it was a terrible habit Obi-Wan had accidentally passed on to him while he was still training him...it was also unfairly attractive. 

“Okay” was the simple response. “We’ll date, though I don’t really see the point in it since I know you already.” 

“You know me as your mentor and friend” the Jedi Master corrected. “Not as your lover.”

A blonde brow was arched.

“There’s more?”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to smirk.

“There’s _always_ more.”

Blue eyes widened fractionally.

“Yeah? Give me an example.”

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, before allowing a mysterious smile to grace his features.

“Do you remember when we were coming back from Mortis and you walked in on a private call I was having?”

Anakin’s brow furrowed as he searched his memory.

“Yeah...I remember. Your Force-pushed me out of the room and told me to mind my own kriffing business.” He frowned. “Weird though. I always wondered who that call was from.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms and smirked.

“There was no call Anakin.”

The younger man looked confused.

“Oh.” Comprehension dawned across his features. _“Oh.”_

“I am human after all” he replied loftily. “And there weren’t exactly any opportunities for that sort of thing on Mortis.” 

A delighted, slightly disbelieving grin was spreading across Anakin’s face. 

“That’s sexy as hell.” 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and made to turn away before the arm around his waist tightened slightly.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Anakin murmured. 

Obi-Wan hesitated.

“I...I’m not sure if that is a wise decision” he said carefully. 

The younger man pouted and Obi-Wan willed his wildly pubescent feelings to die a slow, agonizing death.

“Why? Cause I snore?”

“That, and because you’re young and single-minded and extremely attractive.” 

Anakin’s answering smile was simply breathtaking, and when he found himself pressed against the soft warmth of his body later that night, willing away a persistent erection through sheer force of will, Obi-Wan told himself he couldn’t say no twice...especially when his former padawan was so happy. 

It was a lot easier than admitting he was a romantic sod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N** : So, I did want to sort of outline the geographical aesthetics of Spira before we dive too deeply into their time there, because a _lot_ is going to happen here. I also wanted Anakin and Obi-Wan to enjoy each other (a bit) before shit hits the fan. I know it seems like I'm backpedaling with them physically, but Obi-Wan is kind of a serial romantic and Anakin is like...I don't know, when you're lying in bed thinking about someone you really think is attractive and suddenly they come bursting through the front door and want to have sex with you. That's what Anakin is to Obi-Wan anyway. He's understandably intimidated/thrilled. We'll get more into the parameters of the Bond as well, there are some dark aspects to it, and they will need to overcome them in order to move forward. I have several loose ends I need to tie up before we're even close to the end here. 
> 
> Also, need input: I wanted to address what's going to happen with Palpatine. I've toyed with bringing it all the way up to the end of ROTS, but it feels like that might be spinning it out too long. 
> 
> What do you think?
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	13. Weak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** Angst, Violence
> 
> Some extensive description at the beginning.

“Do you ever miss your mother?”

Looking out over the vista in front of them, Anakin was startled by the direct question. They were somewhere in center of Yolun, though it was really kind of hard to tell with the amount of vegetation around them. Large, glistening varshi leaves bowed under the weight of the humidity, teardrop-shaped fronds quivering slightly in the barely-distinguishable breeze. Explosions of yellow, red, and purple aster blooms gave forth a fragrance that was strong but not overpowering, clustered together like so many stars in the surrounding greenery. Vines of some unpronounceable name were covered in huge white flowers that wiggled slightly whenever someone walked past them, emitting a happy humming noise that soon spread to other vines and trailed down the length of the island ‘till they could no longer be heard. There was a rather adorable animal following them that made a noise that sounded suspiciously like _*quack*_. Anakin had yet to see it, but he was absolutely sure it was fuzzy and harmless. Even more prominent was the crash of wave against shore; melodic and timeless...just out of sight or to their left or right as they followed the trail. 

They were currently perched on a flat outcropping of weathered sandstone that extended into the water about five feet and rose maybe six. It was about the same width across and made for an excellent place to stop and rest. The edges were covered in a deep green moss that lightened into chartreuse hair-thin fronds that looked like they could be blown away with a well-placed sneeze; despite it being obvious they were hardy enough to withstand the wash of the tide. Upon looking over the edge, one could see schools of brightly colored fish swimming in the shallows; flashes of turquoise and and fuschia glimmering incandescently in the sunlight in brief explosions of luminescence. The occasional oddly-shaped crustacean made its appearance to snatch off stragglers, disappearing into invisible holes under the water with barely a trace of its existence. The view was endless waves stretching out over the horizon and into the beyond; accompanied by the occasional fluffy cloud...wisps of cumulus trailing like nebula tails. Obi-Wan had speculated there might be rain in the afternoon, but it was still midday and they had plenty of time to hike back. 

Anakin was loathe to admit it, but it was easier to meditate here than anywhere else he’d ever been. He didn’t know if it was because of the Bond or because of his newfound sense of self, but he was starting to enjoy his sessions with his former Master. When twilight fell, they made their way down to the beach in front of the cottage and meditated until it was dark, sitting cross legged and slightly apart. Obi-Wan often remained far longer, preferring to watch the death of the day as Anakin meandered back inside to fix dinner. It was-dare he say it-very domestic and undeniably peaceful. Nights were comprised of campfires and reminiscence; and he’d discovered his mentor was a pretty impressive storyteller when you sat and listened. Anakin enjoyed eating mallowpuffs while his former Master told him of his adventures with Qui-Gon. In different circumstances, the mention of the man who had died so soon after deciding his fate might have brought him resentment...but here it was different. Here he could tolerate the idea of personal difference and loss and still curl up with Obi-Wan at the end of the day. 

Whatever all that trash-talk about _wooing_ was, the older man was pretty kriffing adorable at it. Others might have found it hopeless, but Anakin relished every single minute of it. He’d woken up the day after their discussion to find the cottage filled with smoke and his Master down by the ocean trying to extinguish a flaming frying pan. After the initial panic over Obi-Wan possibly incurring bodily harm, he was able to get out of the very embarassed Jedi Master that he had used all of their eggs in an attempt to make Anakin breakfast. That night, he found a string of vines under his pillow with miniscule seashells threaded into it. It didn’t smell great, but it _was_ beautiful. Anakin had worked with electronics his entire life, he knew painstaking craftsmanship when he saw it. For all his romantic inadequacies, Obi-Wan was an excellent singer. His rendition of _Moons Over Coruscant_ had nearly brought Anakin to tears, and there was a particular Stewjonian lullaby he was forbidden from reciting. The first time he’d heard it, Anakin had been so achingly reminded of his mother he’d left Obi-Wan by the fire for an hour so he could cry into a pillow. From then on, the older man stuck to more cheerful tunes, often with the younger man as an accompaniment. Anakin couldn’t sing to save his life, but those moments were so precious and so tangible he could hardly help it. He was slowly compiling a list of truly beautiful moments with Obi-Wan and he stored each one carefully in his heart...as if at any moment this illusion of peace they had wrapped around themselves would implode into disaster. 

Of all the time they spent together, the quiet moments were the most gravid. Anakin would wake in the middle of the night to find their limbs entangled, his hand splayed over the curve of a hip and he felt _home_. Even without the sex, there was an intimacy to their exchanges that was so profound it left him grinning like an idiot whenever he stopped to think about it. It was strange, he'd always equated love with sex...but with Obi-Wan it was deeper and more personal.

Brushing a strand of hair that had gotten caught in the wind, Anakin gazed out over the waves and contemplated the older man’s question. 

“Yeah...I miss her” he said roughly. “She was really beautiful, y’know? Inside I mean.” He chuckled and tilted his head. “Never let me get away with shit though, she was strict.”

“Thank goodness, or you’d have been an utter menace” Obi-Wan muttered. 

“I really miss her” Anakin admitted. “But I know she's in a better place.”

“I was so worried about you when I heard” the older man sighed. “You didn't tell me, not even after Geonosis, I had to find out when her death certificate arrived.”

“You’d been through enough” the blonde muttered. “I didn't want to add to it.”

“I was heartbroken for you” Obi-Wan whispered. “I thought with absolute certainty I was delivering the news to you.” He took a shuddering breath. “Then I saw your face, and I knew you knew.”

“It was done for me” the younger man replied. “I...lost so much control there...so much of who I was. “ They were silent for a while. “What about your mom?”

Obi-Wan blinked and sat back.

“I never really knew her” he finally admitted. “My family was very poor you see, so the opportunity to give me a better life was met without question. My father was a farmer, but he died when I was still a Youngling. After that my mother tried to write to me, but the Council censured our letters so they weren't very personal. It was rather like writing a mission report. She died when I was twenty-five, though I think I have a brother and a sister, but they've never shown any interest in contacting me. I was gone before they were born.” 

“What was your mom's name?”

“Iwa, Iwa-Sonshai Kenobi. My father's name was Ben, he wasn't Stewjonian. I think my mother's maiden name was Surchaiki.”

“So you’re an anagram!” Anakin exclaimed, grinning. 

Obi-Wan chuckled.

“Partially yes. It's not uncommon for Stewjonians to make new names out of old ones...it's somewhat a tradition actually. Thankfully they didn't use every letter or I'd be something ridiculous like Obishan-Weinshiikruben.” Anakin dissolved into helpless chuckles, even the older man seemed to be having difficulty restraining himself. “I met a fellow from Stewjon who was name Moutrirbo-Xzebithhavrnkark, I can't imagine what his parents were thinking but they obviously believed in tradition, however poorly slapped together. He was very offended when I asked if I could call him “Mo.”

“If it's any consolation I'm pretty sure my name was pulled from a four-hundred-year-old baby book” Anakin chortled. “Not much to the history I'm afraid.”

“Actually, your name has two meanings” Obi-Wan corrected, smiling wryly at the younger man’s obvious surprise. “‘Anakin’ was the old Dathomirian word for a male warrior. Or, if you go with what the media says, it means _‘larger than life.’_ Your name is currently number four on the top fifty baby names of this year in Coruscant alone.” 

The aforementioned man wrinkled his nose.

“Kriff, I'd _hate_ to be named after someone with my track record” he muttered. 

“Oh yes, because you're such a public vagrant” Obi-Wan groaned, standing and shading his eyes so he could look across the water. The pleasant-looking clouds from earlier were starting to appear greyish and somewhat ominous. “We should head back, the afternoon rain is coming in faster than I thought it would.” 

Anakin grumbled a bit, though it was more out of habit than the fact he was actually discomfited. Even with Higii’s drug nearly out of his system and his strength coming back he still tired more easily than he’d have liked. Accepting Obi-Wan’s proffered hand up, he took a moment to steady himself before bending down to pick up his pack. His former Master was busy fiddling with the straps on his own and Anakin took the opportunity to drink some water and check his chronometer. As they made their way back to the trail, he became distinctly aware of the fact that Obi-Wan was becoming increasingly apprehensive. He kept glancing at the sky and frowning uncomfortably. Anakin chalked it up to the older man’s desire not to get his hair wet at first, but the longer they trekked the more concerned he became. He was suddenly painfully conscious of the fact that the rainforest had become silent around them; the cheerful chatter of birdsong and insect activity drowned by a sense of baited oppression. 

They'd been in situations like this before, when the approach of enemy troops slowly drained the virility of the environment around them, but it wouldn't make sense for the Separatists to be on Spira….let alone coincidentally on the one island where they were taking leave. 

“This...feels really shitty” Anakin muttered, wiping a thin sheen of sweat off his upper brow. 

“That wasn’t the word I was thinking of, but I’m inclined to agree with you” Obi-Wan replied, his gaze darting to the thick undergrowth around them. “Anakin...if I told you to run and leave me behind, would you?”

The younger man stopped and scowled.

“Absolutely not” he snapped. 

Obi-Wan huffed and folded his arms.

“Anakin, I don’t know what we’re dealing with but it doesn’t feel like a non-sentient predator and it doesn’t feel like anything connected to the Separatist regime. It feels...like Mortis.” 

“Yeah, and I ran off on Mortis to engage The Brother alone, and we all know how well that went.” 

“You’re still recovering” Obi-Wan pressed, a hand drifting to his lightsaber. “This isn’t a battle we can fight together-”

“-I’m _not leaving_ ” Anakin snarled, and the rage the flared across the Bond gave Obi-Wan cause to step back. “It’s that bitch ‘Rishe. You know it. I know it. We didn’t catch her before, and she’s coming back to finish the job. I’m going to gut her, and I’m going to _enjoy_ it.” 

The sense of oppression around them deepened, and Anakin felt very much like he’d been submerged in deep water. Everything seemed to come through a veil of glimmering shimmersilk; like phantom oases in the dunes...painfully clear at one moment only to disappear yet again. A dull roar seemed to be coming from his eardrums, the rush of blood through his veins suddenly unbearably loud. His former Master didn’t seem as affected, but it was hard to tell. He was looking at Anakin with concern and apprehension. 

“This isn’t going to work like that” Obi-Wan pressed. “‘Marishe isn’t human, she’s an amalgamation of the Force in a somewhat sentient body but her intentions won’t be to kill, they’ll be to _corrupt._ Whatever she’s doing, it’s already working. Jedi don’t take pleasure in death, but you’re talking about revenge...revenge like you took with Sand People and we both know how much that cost you!”

As he spoke, the midday light around them appeared to flicker and darken...a gradual degradation at the edges of the forest that swept inwards; like the subtle rush of rot across fallen timber. The greenery around them wilted; vibrant colors deepening to a sickly grey before crumbling to dust. Humid warmth descended into a wet, insidious cold that pervaded to the bone...any semblance of the tropical brilliance they’d so recently been surrounded with encompassed by death and corruption. It was painfully reminiscent of how nightfall had been on Mortis; echoing the ever changing rotation of the Force and the seemingly eternal struggle for power between the Brother and Sister. Strangely, Anakin didn’t feel alarmed or afraid. He could feel The Force humming through his veins, a continuous reassurance of the fact that while this was definitely a strange turn of events, he still held the upper hand. He’d been able to subdue both Siblings on Mortis and he was confident he could do the same with a diluted version of them. Even more prominent than this was the fact that he could _finally_ have some form of justice for what had been done to him on Corellia, and more importantly, what had been done to Obi-Wan. 

**“You’re weak.”**

His former Master had told him about how beautiful Marishe was, how her appearance seemed to hold those who served her in constant sway. As her form began to take shape between them, Anakin couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of contempt for what was before him. Marishe wasn’t beautiful to him at all, not in the way that Padme was beautiful, or in the way that Obi-Wan was handsome. Everything, down to the shimmering shroud of moonlit hair over her shoulders was illusory...like looking through a hologram and seeing a seething mass of nothing but ugliness within. Aesthetics meant very little to Anakin, even if there were some that would have pegged him as incredibly vain. Yes, he knew he was definitionally good-looking, and yes he had used such knowledge to his advantage in the past...but attractiveness came from inside, and you couldn’t hide an ugly soul with pale skin and pretty eyes. The Daughter had been a pure manifestation of the Light Side of the Force...every facet of her being was shot through with goodness. Looking at her was seeing everything that was wrong with yourself...you couldn’t measure up to her because she was omnipotent and continuous. 

Marishe was outwardly stunning, but everything in her was a coagulation of her anger, resentment, and grief. She was a shell that held too much of nothing...and Anakin was neither cowed nor impressed by her. In different circumstances, he might have felt truly sorry for her, but each time he leaned towards compassion he remembered Obi-Wan’s pain screaming at him from across their mental link in that confined and crowded space. He remembered how she’d used her abilities with the Force to oppress and confine them for the sake of a regime that had died on a planet he wasn’t sure even existed in this fold of time and space. As if sensing his thoughts, rubicund lips curled into a mocking smirk and Anakin gritted his teeth. Around them, the ground was covered in a thick layer of frost and he was aware of the fact that Obi-Wan was shivering violently but he felt nothing. His entire focus was narrowed on the poor excuse for a woman before him. 

Her form appeared semi-solid at first but quickly gained depth and weight, though the eerie white glow around her never fully faded. The deteriorating forest around them seemed to lose definition with her presence, and it quickly faded into the background, giving off the impression of being in a confined yet endless void of darkness; the only light coming from her ethereal appearance. Marishe’s voice held the same multi-vocal facets of the Ancients before her; every syllable vibrated and settled in Anakin’s chest before bleeding away to leave a sort of aching emptiness. The Force around her was so strong it was suffocating, but she strangely didn't seem bent on attacking them. Instead, her gaze roved over them and each time it landed on him, Anakin felt like she was _reading_ him, becoming acquainted with every facet of his being with seemingly no effort at all. It felt like being emotionally violated, and it was this over everything else that drove him to speak 

“I’m weak?” he scoffed. “Yeah, sure. I’m sorry about what happened to your mother, your grandfather, and your uncle or whatever...but they had a pretty poor grasp on reality by the time we arrived on Mortis.” His hand drifted to his lightsaber before he thought better of it, remembering the Brother’s ability to sheath their weapons with a single wave of a hand. “But that doesn’t excuse what you did to us, or who you worked with.” 

**”I enjoyed it”** she purred, raising a delicate eyebrow to glance at Obi-Wan. **”Your pain was the most relief I’ve gotten in the years since you betrayed your Destiny and chose Chaos.”**

“None of us had any concept of what was at s-stake” Anakin’s former Master cut in, his teeth chattering. “It didn’t help that everyone was speaking in riddles and exp-pecting us to understand their meaning. You can’t fault Anakin for his loyalty to the Order, it’s how he was raised, how _I_ raised him.”

Marishe sneered.

**” _’How you raised him’_ ”** she echoed mockingly. **”And yet here you are, _wooing_ him.”** Anakin’s blood boiled as Obi-Wan flinched. **”Tell me, how has that been going over with your precious _’Order?’_** ” When no reply was forthcoming, she pressed on. **”Your padawan, your _only_ padawan, cuffed and tortured beyond the brinks of insanity and you _fuck_ him like he’s a common whore in a flesh shop ripe for the picking. You pull him into danger time and time again and when the time comes for you to choose death over dishonor you choose _rape._** ”  
The older man’s face had paled considerably at her words, and their Bond was flooded with grief, guilt, and self-hatred. The darkness around them deepened, shot through with insidious purples and sickly greens. **”You enjoyed it, didn’t you? You enjoyed taking the virginity of someone who couldn’t give consent, who couldn’t ask for you to stop. Isn’t that rather… _Sithly_ of you? Didn’t-”**

“-Enough!” Anakin roared, flinging a hand out and drawing on every ounce of power he had within himself. Marishe’s diatribe was cut short as tendrils of powerful Force-manipulation closed around her throat and cut off her air supply. Depthless eyes widened as her hands lifted to scrabble at nothing. “You _know_ as well as anyone that we couldn’t help ourselves” he snarled, advancing as she struggled to no avail...her feet slowly lifting off the ground. “Obi-Wan is innocent, everyone is innocent in this except _you_ and Higii and Higii is dead!” His lips curled into a smirk. “And if I can help it, you’ll be next.” 

“Anakin, no” Obi-Wan said weakly, seeming to have recovered from his momentary shock. “No, it’s what she wants, she wants you to lose yourself in this.” The younger man hesitated, distracted by his partner’s pleading, his grip on the Force loosening somewhat as he considered his words. “We have to subdue her, the Council will want to-”

**”-I wonder what your mother thinks”** Marishe rasped, tilting her head to look at Anakin. **”She let you go to become a Jedi, to be honorable and truthful and here your are spreading your legs for the man who taught you. I wonder if she’d be so proud of her precious whoreson-”**

_”Shut up!”_

The scream seemed to be ripped from the dregs of his being, the grief and guilt that ate at him whenever he had time to stop and think blinding him in a wash of fury that seemed to encompass him in it’s entirety. This time, the amount of Force he put behind the chokehold had Marishe’s eyes rolling back in her head, a runnel of navy blood spilling over her lips as she laughed airlessly. Growling, Anakin tightened his hold, determined to end this, to end his- _their_ -suffering that had come about by the mechanisms of this monster-

“-Anakin _stop_!” 

Obi-Wan moved as if to stop him, and he growled, lifting his other hand to flatten the older man to the ground...only the barest amount of remorse trickling through his psyche as he refocused on his original task. His former Master tried their Bond next, but Anakin was prepared for it. As the soft blue of Obi-Wan’s Signature rose to gently supplicate his into submission he reared back mentally and pulled the Braid tight, throwing all his intent and all his focus into the man’s mind, overriding reasoning and tethering their Will into synonymy. Obi-Wan made a strangled noise and doubled over on the ground, his fingers digging into the icy soil as Anakin’s conscious devoured him. Marishe’s eyes were gradually darkening and he felt a perverse amount of satisfaction. 

**_”Together”_** he demanded through the Bond. **_”Together we end her.”_**

For a few breathless moments, it seemed as if Obi-Wan might obey him. Those familiar, beautiful fingers stretched out as if to join him in his single-minded intensity. Slender digits trembled, and for a single moment a voice in Anakin’s mind whispered that this was _wrong_ , he shouldn't be doing this - and that was all the time Obi-Wan needed. There was the hum of a lightsaber, a sensation of grim intent, and for a moment Anakin was sure he intended to strike him down...but when the blow never came he glanced over at the older man only to freeze. The Jedi Master had his blade to his own throat, his chest heaving as he locked gazes with Anakin. It was then that he realized Obi-Wan’s eyes were a deep yellow; a psychic bleed transferring from his own conscious. 

“I’ll do it” Obi-Wan rasped, and the certainly in his voice was terrifying. “If you don’t stop, I’ll do it.”

The sense of euphoric bloodlust shattered with his declaration and Anakin’s focus was destroyed as he dropped to his knees with an anguished cry, clutching his head as all the power he'd subverted rushed back into him. Obi-Wan was at his side seconds later, pulling him upright and gathering him in his arms as he dissolved into a flood of grief and self-hatred. Anakin couldn’t account for his kindness...what he'd done was _unforgivable_. The Bond was still seething with aftershocks from his frankly tyrannical act of mind manipulation and he retched, pushing Obi-Wan away so he could vomit on the ground, his vision swimming. 

“I’m s-sorry!” he sobbed, choking slightly as another wave of sickness overtook him. “Oh stars Obi-Wan, I'm so… _fuck_ just kill me would you?!” he demanded, his voice rising as hysteria overtook him fingers bunching in Obi-Wan’s tunic as he shivered uncontrollably. “I can’t-! I _can't !_ ”

“Anakin” Obi-Wan murmured, strong fingers pulling his hair back from his face. “Anakin-Ani-dear one...it's alright, it's _okay._ ”

“I just shredded your _brain!_ ” he wheezed. “The Council puts Jedi who do that in _Stars’ End_! I should be court-martialed for that shit! How did I even _do_ that?! I-”

He broke off, unable to find enough breath to keep going, his chest feeling as if it was slowly being crushed by the weight of his actions. 

“Oh, Anakin” Obi-Wan murmured, drawing him forward and pulling his head into his chest. “Everyone loses control.”

“Yeah?” the younger man gasped. “When people lose control they scream and break things, when _I_ lose control I murder women and children and _mind-rape_ the person I love more than anything-!” He tried to struggle away to no avail, his fingers digging into the rough fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic. “I’m sick, Obi-Wan...I’m seriously fucked up!”

“Listen to me” the Jedi Master said fiercely. “You were brought into the Order with a title on your head that would bring lesser men to their knees. I've seen you overcome obstacles that would kill people with less determination and fortitude. You have powers far beyond anyone on the Council, beyond Master Yoda. When people with great power make mistakes the mess they leave behind is always bigger but it's still _just a mess._ It's a mistake, a learning process, we all go through it. You are kind, loving, and loyal and I love you so much I don't know what to do with myself half the time. Anakin, you are _good_ and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

**”It doesn't change that you are weak.”** Anakin stiffened, alarm flooding through him as he realized he had completely forgotten about Marishe. Obi-Wan didn't tense, but the stillness in his posture indicated he was analyzing their options. **”My family didn't die so you could live in peace and happiness. You don't deserve it, your powers are wasted on you and it would be far better to send them back out into the Force with your death-”**

-There was the tell-tale hum as Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber with unerring precision. Anakin fell with the hand that pushed him away as his former Master rose and drew his arm back, executing a perfect hand-over-hand rotation that ended in a throw that most Masters reserved for only the most desperate of situations. It was Vaapad, and Anakin couldn’t imagine how much it had cost Obi-Wan to use that Form...but it worked. His saber embedded itself in Marishe’s chest and out the other side, a blur of lethal blue and silver that practically screamed the finality of its intent. Marishe crumbled like synthfoil, the light around around her flickering erratically before going out completely. A distant scream split the air and her body began to dissolve and disintegrate; particles flying up and into the air as the rainforest slowly came alive again around them. The vegetation regenerated and grew until it was impossible to tell that anything had occurred.

There was a soft hum as Obi-Wan called his lightsaber back to him and sheathed it, clipping it to his belt as Anakin straightened and attempted to stand, only to find his legs wouldn't obey him. Averting his gaze, the younger man took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, flinching slightly as his former Master knelt next to him, grasping his chin and tilting his head up. The love in those stormcloud eyes was undeniable, but Anakin bitterly reflected it would be awhile before he felt himself worthy of receiving it again. The chuckle that left his lips was dull and self-deprecating. 

“Funny” he said hoarsely. “When we first got here, it was you who needed time.” He swallowed reflexively. “Now...I need time.”

The soft scratch of that beard against his cheek nearly brought him to tears again, and his breath hitched dangerously as warm lips brushed his temple. 

“Take all the time you want” Obi-Wan murmured. “I'll wait as long as you like, but this was not your fault.” He shifted slightly. “I'm going to comm the Council and ask them to extend our stay.”

“I'm sorry” Anakin said brokenly.

“I'm _not_. I don't blame you, and I'll stand by you no matter what the Council says. You have my heart, and I'm not going to turn from you because of a Bond we don't understand and a series of events that left you- _us_ -with severe mental trauma.”

They stayed there for a while, as mid-morning shifted into afternoon and the colors of the rainforest turned a warm golden hue. By the time they started heading back it was raining, but neither minded. It was cleansing in a way...peaceful and soothing. Both left their muddy clothes by the back door and showered together, letting the warmth of the spray loosen aching joints and cold extremities. And as they lay together listening to raindrops hit the roof Anakin reflected that perhaps he could learn from this and move on...but it would take a while. Even with the warmth of Obi-Wan’s body pressed against his back, their fingers entwined against Anakin’s chest, the guilt was crushing...but it was an ache now rather than the blind panic he'd felt in the rainforest. He was sick of being afraid...afraid of loss, afraid of being weak and afraid of loss of control. And as his eyes fluttered with the first wave of sleep he reflected that perhaps it was time to stop trying to hold his entire life together with an iron fist…

...maybe it was time to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** This was hard to write, but I knew I had to wrap things up with Marishe. I feel really horrible for Anakin. I did enjoy making up the origins of Obi-Wan’s name though. In real life, 'Anakin' is a Native American word for warrior, but since Native Americans don't exist in the Star Wars universe, Dathomir was the next best choice. 
> 
> I hope I didn't take things over the top with this excerpt. 
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R **


	14. Sunlight And Sand

Anakin was trying to meditate. 

Leaning against the frame that supported the sliding glass doors at the back of the cottage, Obi-Wan blew an errant strand of hair out of his eyes before returning his gaze to his former padawan. He was sitting cross-legged at the trailhead; facing the rainforest beyond with his back straight and hands held loose over his knees. Even from where he was standing, the older man could sense his discontent. His Signature was a bright, jarring shade of yellow...a mirror of his inward battlement and irritation. Obi-Wan knew he would have to intervene soon, before Anakin’s temper got the best of him...but he wanted to let him try on his own before rushing to his ‘rescue’ of sorts. He knew what it was like to struggle with connecting with the Force, he'd done it for weeks before they'd been reunited. Even with their Signature Braid a warm, humming reminder of their newfound closeness, meditation was still a deeply personal thing….and Obi-Wan didn't want to jump the blaster and scatter whatever progress Anakin may or may not have made. 

The Council had-albeit reluctantly-extended their stay on Spira. Obi-Wan had only gone so far as to detail Marishe’s appearance, and the fact that they had been forced to kill her in his report. He didn’t think mentioning that Anakin had briefly defected to the Dark side and attempted to mind-control him would look good on paper. A part of him balked at deliberately deceiving his superiors, but he didn’t want to jeopardize what they’d been working towards. The day after Marishe’s attack, Anakin had been forced to take a dose of Moondust when his blood pressure skyrocketed and he began to bleed profusely through his nose. He’d spent the majority of the day in a hazy stupor, babbling about long-finished podracing scores and mechanics that Obi-Wan was fairly sure had gone out of date a decade ago. It broke his heart to see him that way, it was rather like looking at a shell, but it was better than dying. He’d recovered by the next morning and they didn’t discuss it by way of silent agreement. 

The Daughter’s daughter’s actions had taken a toll on both of them. Anakin refused to traverse the side of the island where they had encountered her, and Obi-Wan privately felt somewhat relieved. There was an overall feeling of discontent that settled in his soul whenever he glanced down the fork that led to the clearing where the disaster had taken place, and he inwardly hoped the land overtook it and no one walked that way ever again. When they did venture out, they stuck to the opposite end of the island; an area that they hadn’t explored much in any case so it wasn’t like they were missing anything breathtaking. Marishe’s insinuation of non-consensual violation stuck with Obi-Wan like poisonous gundark. Realistically, he knew what she said wasn’t true, but it was still hard to mix logic and action. All of his previous partners had been willing...perhaps too willing as they were nameless and mostly faceless after so much time spent raising a padawan and focusing on missions. He didn’t take pride in his youthful escapades anymore, and there were times when he caught himself wishing he had waited like Anakin had evidently waited. There was nothing in the Code about seeking pleasure without the risk of attachment, but his former padawan never did things by halves, and Obi-Wan honestly couldn’t see him sleeping with someone he didn’t love….it went against his nature. 

Still, in the wee hours of the morning, when he woke up needing to use the ‘fresher-(an increasingly frequent necessity since his slow but unstoppable approach to forty)-he’d find Anakin sprawled out on the mattress next to him in all his youthful virility and wonder if he was _really_ doing the right thing. Anakin was young and forgetful, and he was old and nostalgic and the idea of him putting unnecessary reliance on someone who wasn’t fully emotionally developed felt a lot like abusing his position. On the flipside, Anakin had seen more than most men his age had seen in a lifetime. He was no more ignorant to the way of the world than Obi-Wan was, and though he wasn’t a scholar, he was tactically brilliant and undeniably honest...especially when it came to matters of the heart. He couldn't walk away from him for reasons based on his own emotional insecurities. 

An aggravated growl drew Obi-Wan from his thoughts and back to the present. Anakin was standing up with a resigned scowl on his face, brushing the sand from his pants and running a hand through his hair. Upon turning, he seemed startled but not upset to see Obi-Wan standing there, and his expression softened somewhat as he meandered over to him; stopping a few inches away and raising a brow. 

“No luck?” the older man queried.

“A little” was the grumbled response. “It’s just sorting through everything that takes up so much time.” Anakin reached out with his leather-gloved hand and wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan’s, leaning forward ‘till his head was pillowed on his shoulder, breath tickling his neck. The Jedi Master let the hand that wasn't occupied come up to stroke through sunlight-colored locks. “I'm a little tired.”

“Did you want to scope out that hidden path?” Obi-Wan queried, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the nape of Anakin’s neck.

The younger man shrugged, a movement that jostled the both of them slightly. 

“If you want, I'm gonna make same caf first. You think you can have everything ready by the time I'm done?” 

The auburn-haired man started to nod before realizing Anakin couldn’t see him.

“I believe so.”

He watched as his former padawan brushed past him to head into the kitchen, disappearing into the hallway as he busied himself with closing the glass doors. Wandering over to the closet, he pulled their backpacks out and silently checked their inventory, throwing a few bottles of water and two packs of trail mix into them before tugging the sleeping bags out and clipping them to the base. They hadn't camped yet so far, but he liked to be prepared in case one or both of them tired from all the trekking they were doing. Placing their cargo and cloaks by the doors, Obi-Wan made his way to the living room and pulled out his comm to check for messages. With nothing forthcoming, he locked the front door and went back into the sleeping area to wait for Anakin. He didn’t have to tarry long, as the blonde practically followed him back into the bedroom with caf in hand, seemingly lost in thought. Preferring not to disturb his mental process, the Jedi Master made their bed and turned down the sheets before briefly stopping in the ‘fresher to grab their toothbrushes. By the time he came out Anakin was slipping on his boots, his hair tied back with a strip of cloth yet again. 

“We should be able to make it there before sunhigh” Obi-Wan commented, picking up his pack. “I'm not positive of the way, so I'll need your help to keep an eye out.”

Rising, the younger man smirked.

“Map-reading not your forte?”

“Not when it's this convoluted, no” he replied drily. “Are you ready?”

“Been waiting for you the whole time old man” was the snarky reply as his former apprentice stepped out the door, shouldering his backpack. 

With an exasperated huff, he followed and keyed the lock behind them. They walked in companionable silence for a while, drinking in the sounds of the rainforest as light from the morning sun filtered through the canopy. It was hot but not uncomfortably so yet, though Obi-Wan knew that would change soon after sun-high. The map they were following really _was_ poorly formulated, though he suspected that this was more to add tropical mystery to the getaway than the inadequacies of the topographer. He was also knowledgeable of the fact that while they had seen no one else during their stay, there were still prominent politicians who owned land on the island. 

Several times they'd come across properties that were very obviously custom homes...all of them bigger than their cottage with almost ridiculous security installments. Anakin was very fond of a four-story bungalow carved out of the trees; interlacing with various levels of the canopy. They'd only seen it once, however, and upon looking for it again they'd been unable to find it. It was-Obi-Wan reflected - quite a clever move on the part of their hosts. None of the properties were listed on the map - save their own - and they never saw the same dwelling twice. It was only through wandering off the path due to Anakin’s curiosity that they found them at all, and if they left indicators near an area they'd wanted to explore more another day, their makeshift trail markers were gone come morning, and the vegetation was somewhat altered so they could never pinpoint precise landmarks. In a different scenario this might have been unsettling and disturbing, but in their current situation Obi-Wan found it strangely reassuring. The invisible staff didn't discourage exploration, but it was clear they valued the security and privacy of their clients.

“Oh, here's that dwarpy fish-rock.”

Suppressing an eye-roll at Anakin’s Outer Rim slang for something that could simply be called _’weird’_ , Obi-Wan checked the map to confirm their location.

“You are correct, that is a ‘dwarpy fish-rock’, beyond it should be a ‘dwarpy rillo pond’, next to a ‘dwarpy divestha tree.’”

Anakin _did_ roll his eyes.

“Just because you're too old and stuffy to use slang doesn't mean you have to be an ass about it.”

“Who said I'm too old?” the Jedi Master commented mildly, brushing past him to head down the trail. “Maybe I just value Standard to a point that I don't like mangling it.”

“Uh huh, that's not what you said three years ago when we nose-dived over Bespin.”

Obi-Wan pulled a face.

“That wasn’t slang, that was...use of colorful linguistic emphasis.”

_”’Anakin! I swear by a gundark’s kriffing arsehole if you've blown another tech circuit I will flay your fierfekking, leather-obsessed behind to Hoth and back! If I die in this crash I will haunt you until you can't tell a nerfherder from a dancing Zeltronian!’”_

The older man flushed and cleared his throat.

“To be fair, I'm positive your response was to tell me to _’fuck off’_ in Huttese.” 

_”E chu ta”_ his former padawan agreed pleasantly. “Then you went off on a tangent on how you regretted that I was too old to be spanked, and that if I was a few years younger you'd have bent me over your knee and ‘put the fear of the Force’ in me.” He flashed a grin sideways. “Kinky even then, _Master._ Pretty sure fear isn't part of the Code.”

“The only thing I wanted to do was throw you through the cockpit window” Obi-Wan muttered. “And there's _nothing_ kinky about that.” 

Anakin laughed and shook his head, peering down the trail somewhat so he could see what was before them.

“That's the pond there.”

Blinking, the Jedi Master checked the map. 

“We’ll go left next to it” he commented. “That's where the map ceases to be helpful.”

“Good” Anakin said enthusiastically. “I like flying blind.”

“Don't I know it” Obi-Wan grumbled. 

The map ended to the left of the pond but the trail did not. It wended leisurely around the trunks of trees before taking a steep uphill slope for perhaps a little over a mile. The incline gradually flattened before abruptly opening on an ovular clearing with deep red grass that was incredibly soft and springy. Beyond the clearing was what appeared to be a large but shallow freshwater spring with clear water and dark blue sand. It was lined with smooth, ovular rocks sporting white-flowered lichen and shocking yellow tufts of moss that stood up like they'd been electrified. A fire pit that looked to have been recently cleaned was in the center of the clearing with stacks of dry wood to its left. The trees around them created a wall between the area and the rest of the rain forest; so dense that Obi-Wan struggled to see through them to the foliage beyond. The only path in and out that wouldn't require a lightsaber to carve their way was the trail they'd taken. Overhanging branches had long, organic strings attached to them that ended in a clear, teardrop-shaped bulb about the size of Obi-Wan’s palm. These were filled with some unnameable liquid that glowed when tossed by the occasional breeze. All-in-all, it was ethereal….unworldly to someone who hadn't traveled as much as they had. 

Anakin immediately spotted the spring and threw his pack down grinning widely, shucking off his clothing so he could plow his way in. Obi-Wan remained much more resigned, preferring to pull off his shoes and socks and sit by the waters’ edge; watching in amusement as his companion kicked off to the opposite side of the spring; stopping briefly to stare at something on the bottom before continuing on his way. The water was warm, perhaps a bit on the cooler side but perfect for the steadily rising heat of the day....temperate and clear with only the faintest hint of an aqueous aroma that was more pleasant than it was distracting. If he didn’t know better, he might have assumed it was man-made, but the virile presence of the Force rushing upwards from the caves beneath told him otherwise. There were no signs of large and potentially dangerous aquatic life; the only indication of other living creatures the occasional school of translucent fish flitting away from the shadows. The sun was warm on his back, and he was tempted to take a nap right there at the waters’ edge. 

A soft splash made him open his eyes, and he caught his breath as he watched Anakin pull himself from the water to flop on the rocks at the bank. His body glinted with excess moisture, strands of hair pulling themselves free from the tie to hang about his face and cling to his neck. Unaware of the fact he was being watched, the Jedi Knight rolled onto his belly so he could trail an arm over the side into the water, blue eyes pensive as ripples spread away from his palm...his form lithe and relaxed. A hunger that had nothing to do with the fact that he had missed lunch was slowly pooling in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach, and he felt his face flush as he ducked his head and looked away. He’d seen Anakin naked far too many times for him to be having such a reaction now; Force, he’d been sleeping next to him for nearly a month! Here, out in the open, it was different. Something about it spoke volumes to Anakin’s level of comfort around him, and that warmed him more than anything else. 

“You gonna sit there all day?” 

Obi-Wan jumped as those familiar, husky tones floated over to him, lifting his gaze to find his former padawan smirking at him. 

“Patience is a virtue” he said with far more lofty confidence than he felt. 

A soft snort was his only reply as he stood and divested himself of his clothes, all-too-aware of those azure eyes trained on his back as he folded them carefully and put them a ways away from the waters’ edge. It took him a moment to adjust to the temperature once entering; he wasn’t much of a recreational swimmer and he’d never been as enamored of water as his charge. Still, he couldn’t deny that it was pleasant and relaxing. By the time he reached the opposite side, Anakin’s eyes were closed and he seemed very near to falling asleep. Obi-Wan sidled up next to him in the water and leaned his head on the warm rocks at his back, sighing as the heat permeated muscles that were sore from lugging his backpack around for so long. Here the sunlight was much stronger, though no less soothing, and he let himself drift for a moment before pushing himself away so he could turn and look at Anakin. He was somewhat startled to find his eyes open, his gaze pensive as he watched his progress. Up close, it was easier to watch how the sun affected his skin, highlighting pigmentation and sending up small sparkling rays where water droplets had been. 

Hesitantly, he leaned forward, lifting his right hand to cup his cheek as he moved closer. Golden lashes fluttered slightly with his approach and Anakin reciprocated in kind, leather-clad fingers carding through his hair as their lips met tentatively. A soft, hesitant murmur of pleasure had a slight warmth suffusing his skin...like the rush of adrenaline before a fall, and Obi-Wan shivered as Anakin’s mouth nudged his gently....almost shyly. He let his other had rise to slide across the firm slope of his chest , digging his fingertips into the skin just above his clavicle before draping it over his shoulder. It was different from other kisses they had shared, without the confused haze of drug-addled lust or the tension of knowing one or the other wasn’t fully prepared for what might or might not come. He sensed, rather than heard his companions readiness to move forward, to complete what they’d been so dutifully putting off. When Anakin’s tongue flickered across the seam of his lips he opened his mouth willingly; unable to stop the strangled, almost disbelieving groan that left him. Anakin tasted singularly individual; clear and soft, with the slightest undertone of spring water...like sunlight and sand wrapped into a single individual. 

Slowly, his former padawan slid from his perch on the bank into the water, a firm hand reaching out to grasp his hip as he deepened the kiss further...stealing breath and body ‘till they were both shuddering from arousal and lack of oxygen alike. Obi-Wan shivered and let his head tilt back as Anakin’s mouth made a study of his neck, finding his pulse and running his tongue over it in a manner that was almost reverent...breath stuttering as the younger man fought against his instinctive urge to rush things. The sky above them was breathtaking...edged in white and sapphire...flowing onward with the wind and tide. Obi-Wan reflected that he could get lost in this, in the blueness of the vista above him, the feeling of Anakin’s lips, and the warmth of his palms on his back as their breathing grew ragged and uneven.

“Is this okay?”

It took a few moments for the question to register through the haze of desire that seemed to have permeated every corner of his brain. When he came to his senses, Obi-Wan pulled away and made a study of his partner’s face. Anakin’s expression was heavy with lust, but at the same time apprehensive and reticent. 

“I feel like I should be asking you that” the Jedi Master murmured, gently pulling a lock of blonde hair away from Anakin’s forehead. “We...don’t have to do this.” 

His breath caught as that hot mouth descended on his once again, tongue flickering at the edge of his lips before retreating a safe distance as the younger man gathered his thoughts.

“Yeah, I want this” was the ragged murmur. “Just...we still have some stuff to talk about.” 

Obi-Wan understood, and it was with a patient tenderness that he took over, sealing their lips together as his hand drifted to brush over the tip of a hardened nipple, pinching teasingly before continuing downwards...over the flat planes of Anakin’s belly and under the surface of the water to trace the contour of his arousal. They hadn’t had this opportunity on Corellia, the ability to explore and appreciate without becoming sensationally overwhelmed. Even if this wasn’t going to be exactly what they had in mind, it was still enough, for now. Obi-Wan made a small, appreciative sound as familiar fingers copied his actions, calloused and scarred digits wrapping around him in a gesture that was almost fragile in its slowness...like the acknowledgment of contact was easily breakable with haste. The first stroke had him gasping, his head dropping to loll on one of those tanned shoulders as he mouthed wordlessly into the column of Anakin’s neck, his eyelids fluttering. It was all he could do not to thrust back into that touch, but he felt it was too aggressive an action to take at this point, so he instead returned the gesture with just as much care and appreciation.

_“Hnn..”_

Anakin, it seemed, was not so reserved when it came to physical pleasure, and the hard jut of his erection was a burst of heat against his hip before the younger man restrained himself somewhat; leather-gloved fingers gripping tightly at the strands of hair at the base of Obi-Wan’s neck as they set a tempered pace. Obi-Wan shuddered and let his free hand press against the small of Anakin’s back, bringing them closer to one another as he twined their fingers together...heated flesh against heated flesh...drawing a moan from both of them before he captured that wicked mouth in another searing kiss. Thrusting up and forwards slightly, he was rewarded by a shaky gasp that quickly dissolved into a long, low moan as his partner reciprocated, tilting his head up to watch the furrow of Anakin’s brow...the faint glimmer of white as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip, a flush rising to color his cheeks. He was achingly hard and Obi-Wan suspected that neither of them would last very long. 

_“Obi-Wan-!”_

The ghost of a whimper, caught in the back of his throat as Anakin’s back arced and bowed, breathing uneven as he attempted to reign in the emotions thundering through their Bond. Obi-Wan pulled the Braid gently, letting his psychic fingers sink through layers of consciousness ‘till he reached the synchronous meld of their Signatures, letting his love and affection bleed out into every corner as the younger man swore and his hips began to jerk mindlessly as he was pulled into orgasm; following after him with muffled cry as white washed across his vision. Anakin’s release was as much mental as it was physical, a powerful wave of unadulterated pleasure that shredded decorum and left itself primal as the younger man thrust up against him with a low growl...sucking mindlessly on his bottom lip ‘till they were both shivering from the aftereffects of release and over-stimulation. 

“I love you.”

Obi-Wan shivered and let a trembling hand trace the outline of Anakin’s spine.

“I love you as well.”

It was by unspoken consent that they eventually drew apart to cross the spring and dry off at the bank, pulling on under-tunics and leggings before flopping down to curl against each other in the scarlet grass. Anakin’s eyes were heavy and languorous, his expression-for once-content. 

“I take it you’re not planning on rejoining the Order” Obi-Wan murmured. 

Anakin chuckled and raised a sleepy brow.

“You really need to ask me that?” 

The older man flushed.

“You know I do” he said quietly. “I don’t want to trap you with me.”

He tried to ignore the glow of uninhibited pleasure that pooled in his stomach as long, dexterous fingers stroked his cheek. 

“Wherever you go, I go” was the calm reply. “I’m happy with you...I was never happy with the Order.” The younger man pulled himself up to lean on his elbow. “What about you? Are you okay with this?”

Obi-Wan considered his question.

“It’s...frightening to think of a life without the Order” he admitted. “But...I don’t think I could face combat again...not with what Higii did to us...with what Marishe did to us. When I think about being a Jedi, I feel obligated but I don’t feel _proud_ anymore...there’s too much baggage.”

“I could be part of that baggage” Anakin said quietly.

Obi-Wan smiled, a little sadly.

“I could say the same about myself...but we’re tied together through this Bond, and you have my heart, body, and soul. I’m not perfect by any means, but if you want to give this a chance, I’m not going to say no...not anymore.”  
The smile that spread across Anakin’s face was breathtaking, as was the kiss that he gave a few moments later. By the time he let them come up for air, Obi-Wan was reeling. 

“I told you I was lucky” he murmured against his lips.

The older man snorted.

“Yes, I recall you saying that seconds before we were blown out of a reactor and forced to Levitate six stories to the ground.” Gentling his tone, he cupped his cheek. “However, _I_ am certainly lucky to be loved by you...”

“...and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I want to sincerely apologize for the long wait but I lost my muse and had to chase it around for a bit before it agreed to come home with me. We're not really done yet, they still have to tell the Council and I have a few more things lined up before wrapup is officially in session. There's not a lot of plot development in this chapter but the next chapter thoroughly makes up for that, and I wanted them to have a moment after all the terrible stuff that went down with Marishe.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, and thank you for reading.  
>  **R &R**
> 
>  **Edit:** I did have a full love scene planned for this chapter but the timing didn't feel...right? I don't know, maybe I'm a prude at heart but it felt too invasive with what they've faced and how they're going to deal with telling the Council. I don't think Obi-Wan is going to jump into sex before they leave the Order and I'm not sure that Anakin is mentally ready yet.


	15. Chips and Bogan

“Anakin! We have ten minutes to get down to the shoreline!!”

“I _know_ that!” the aforementioned man grumbled, swiping his cloak off a chair in the living room and giving the cottage another brief once-over. “If you’re in such a hurry to leave you go ahead and I’ll meet you there.”

There was an exasperated sigh from just outside the front door, and Anakin smirked as the sound of footsteps trudging away met his ears. He wasn’t dawdling...really, it was the simple fact that he’d had so few times like this in his life...the quiet, the solitude, the reprieve from constant scrutiny. Obi-Wan couldn’t begrudge him nostalgia, it wouldn’t be fair. Admittedly, he _was_ ready to leave; he’d never liked settling in one place for too long and he was beginning to feel pretty damn lazy. As much as he resented the Order, it had still imbued him with a drive for action and purpose. When he was a slave, his purpose was to serve, and then as a Jedi...his purpose was to serve. Anakin didn’t like being led along on a leash by anyone, but he _did_ hate inactivity, and as much as Spira had to offer, their island had been so thoroughly explored he could have navigated the main path blindfolded. He was also getting tired of cooking with the same ingredients. Fixing a meal was no trouble to him whatsoever, but the culinary diversity on Spira was no match for Coruscant...and his pallet was very bored.

They’d spent their last days coming to a concrete decision regarding their future. Both of them respected and appreciated the Jedi to some degree, but neither of them could envision going back to it with the Bond so powerful in their minds and their feelings for each other solidifying into something utterly unbreakable. Anakin had never seen himself falling for anyone. His childhood had instilled a deep distrust of affection and love, and with his mother’s death his resolve was further bolstered. He’d told Padme he didn’t love her, and that was true, but even if he’d wanted to _try_ to love her, he wasn’t entirely sure he could. A part of him was innately desperate for connection...for closeness and comfort and he’d been desperately apprehensive of the fact that his possessiveness would override any feelings he might culminate. There was an inherent facet of his personality that balked at the idea of wondering where someone was at all times; if they were safe, if they were thinking about him...if they were _loyal_ to him.

He’d rejected Padme on the basis of no feelings, but the truth was he didn’t want to develop any feelings because he didn’t know if he’d be able to control them. Moreover, Padme didn’t want a protector, and she _certainly_ wouldn’t appreciate the person he might or might not have become. With Obi-Wan, he’d never even considered the possibility of romantic love...it had never crossed his mind. He knew he _loved_ Obi-Wan, as a friend, a mentor, and a confidant...but the idea of trying to pursue him was nonexistent. The man had hundreds of admirers in Coruscant’s populace, and he didn’t pay them any mind. Anakin had even gone so far as to wonder if he was pansexual-which was utterly ridiculous now that he really thought about it-because he never made remarks about the aesthetic features of anything remotely sentient. If Anakin commented on the attractiveness of someone he was usually ignored or distractedly agreed with. It was obvious that he’d adored Satine, but the attraction seemed mental and not physical. By the time he was Knighted, he’d come to the conclusion that Obi-Wan Kenobi had no interests in getting in anyone’s pants whatsoever and some small part of him was fiercely happy about it.

Higii had forced them together, but when Anakin looked back on his vague memories of the experience, the most prominent thing he could recall was the staggering amount of affection that had circulated between them. Obi-Wan hadn’t needed to be careful, Anakin would have forgiven him if he wasn’t, but he’d nearly killed himself going slow for the sake of his comfort. His feelings for Obi-Wan surpassed anything he might have felt for Padme, he’d known it the moment he’d given himself to him instead of the other way around. Nothing in his mind had screamed of disgust, violation, or even _wrongness_. Instead, he’d felt safe and fulfilled, circumstantial arrangements aside. Even now, the fleeting images he still retained sent sparks down in his spine and weird little shivers to his extremities. He knew he wanted that again...coherent and aware, but a small part of him was stupidly shy about asking for it. Obi-Wan wanted it too, he knew that; in the soft quiet moments when night had fallen and they would reach for each other under the coverlets that veil would lift...those warm, calloused fingers would wander away from his erection to press against his entrance, rubbing in slow circles. A warmth would pool in his stomach; sweet, fierce and aching only to sense his former Master’s uncertainty as he pulled away and turned his attention elsewhere. Obi-Wan still felt guilty, and Anakin didn’t want to press something so inherently reciprocative on him when he wasn’t ready...it felt like an invasion of limits. So they spent their nights finding different ways to reduce each other to babbling disasters and their days were filled with sunlight, rainforests and the pull of the tide.

“Anakin! If I have to come in there again you will be very, very _sorry_!”

The blond grinned and shook his head, pushing his way out the door only to collide with a very grumpy-looking Obi-Wan. If he wasn’t a Jedi, he’d probably be tapping his foot, but he’d long ago accepted the fact that his former Master was above such things. Raising a brow, the younger man cupped a red-whiskered chin and drew him in for a kiss; smirking as the initial reticence was bled away and his actions were reciprocated. It was a few moments before they surfaced, and though Anakin retained his composure Obi-Wan was looking in a way that he would probably label _’unacceptably untidy’_ or something stuffy like that. Flicking an errant strand of auburn hair away from those stormy eyes, Anakin stole another kiss before lacing their fingers together. As one, they moved away from the cottage and down towards the beach. Spira did not have a transport hub. Residents and guests flew in and out directly from their destinations in order to maintain anonymity and convenience. As such, Anakin’s shuttle was waiting for them at the edge of the sea with a complimentary basket of native fruit next to it and a note from the Board thanking them for their patronage and encouraging them to return at any time. Anakin disposed of it reluctantly, a bittersweet feeling in his chest. Spira had given them both grief and resolution of grief. He’d gotten off the Moondust and would likely be fit for active duty what with all the hiking and swimming they’d done, but going back to the Temple was the last thing he wanted.

They’d at least have to return to Coruscant, in order to get travel passes and to change their identification status from ‘Jedi’ to ‘citizens of the Republic.’ Anakin was hoping to get the chance to talk to the Chancellor before they left for good, but he knew such opportunities would be slim. Still, he wanted to thank him for the time he’d taken to council and support him. Obi-Wan had encouraged him to say goodbye to Padme, and despite the fact that they’d not had much close communication over the years, he was loathe to leave without talking to her. Checking the air calibration meter on the shuttle, Anakin desperately hoped that the Council would let him keep it. He’d practically built it from scrap, spending almost every moment of his free time fussing with her specs and buffing out dents and nicks from previous battles. Other than Ahsoka, his ship was as close to having a kid he’d probably ever get and the idea of leaving her in the hands of the Council filled him with misery.

“I’ve double-checked the nav coordinates” Obi-Wan commented, hopping down from the cockpit to crouch next to Anakin. “The Council is waiting on us at the holocommunicator, are you about done?”

Grimacing, Anakin straightened and dusted the sand off his pants. He cast a long, slightly dawdling glance over the hull before nodding jerkily.

“Might as well get it over with.”

He followed Obi-Wan into the cockpit, sidestepping the radio hook-up he’d never quite finished fixing and settling into the co-pilot’s seat as his former Master powered up the long-distance projector. It flickered for a few seconds; blue magnetics bridging the vast gap between Spira and Coruscant before opening up to the shimmering view of what appeared to be the entirety of the Council sitting before them with Master Yoda at the Center. Out of habit, Anakin bowed his head and sensed rather than saw Obi-Wan do the same next to him. The Bond was alight with the older man’s anxiety, the normally soft cerulean of his Signature a bright neon of nerves and apprehension.

 ***”Good to hear from you it is”*** Yoda began, and Anakin had to bite his lip to keep from mentioning that they’d been keeping tabs on them the whole time. ***”Relaxing your time away has been, hmmm?”**

“Yes, Master Yoda, thank you” Obi-Wan replied, his voice slightly rough. “I’d like to extend our gratitude for our time on Spira, it has been...enlightening.”

 ***”We trust that you and Knight Skywalker are ready to return to the Temple.”** It was Mace this time, and Anakin instinctively flinched away from his voice.

There was a pause, and the younger man briefly wondered if his companion had changed his mind. When he did speak again, his voice came out stronger than he’d expected it to be.

“Having been given considerable time to sort through our thoughts, and given the circumstances surrounding us, Anakin and I will not be returning to the Temple.” There was a collective murmur from the comm and Obi-Wan flinched. “We will be revoking our status as Jedi and joining the citizens of the Republic.”

 ***”And what”*** Mace said through gritted teeth. ***”Might these ‘circumstances’ be?”***

Obi-Wan exhaled shakily and Anakin sent a tendril of affection through their Bond, and was rewarded with a gentle smile in response.

“We...cannot...we don’t _want_ to sever our Bond” he said quietly. “Corellia...” he faltered and this time Anakin placed a hand over his, startling slightly when he found his fingers trapped in a surprisingly aggressive grip but squeezing nevertheless. “I can’t move past it” the older man continued. “Not as a Jedi in any case, and Anakin can’t either. Returning to our posts at the Temple would be dishonest not only to ourselves, but to the Order. We are...emotionally compromised, and we can’t forgo this emotion without giving in to what Noir did to us and succumbing to self-hatred.” He paused. “Moreover, the Bond has proven itself to be far more powerful and dangerous than we assumed it would be, and having such a weapon fall into the wrong hands would surely be the end of the Order.”

There was a silence, and Anakin watched as Mace and Yoda conversed in hush voices.

 ***”This ‘danger’ you speak of, how does it compromise you?”*** Luminara asked quietly, her eyes trained on Anakin.

Obi-Wan hesitated, glancing at Anakin, who nodded.

“We’ve discovered that we can take full control of the other’s mental faculties” he said quietly. “Insofar as to transfer Darkside frequencies to the psyche of the assaulted...to the extent of ocular bogan...”

...The Council-for the lack of a better word-exploded.

Several of the elder members were out of their chairs before Obi-Wan had even finished speaking, only Mace, Luminara, Kit, Vos, Plo Koon, and Yoda remained seated. Only once the shouting reached a truly ridiculous pitch did the Grand Master gesture for silence.

 ***”Neglected to mention this in your report, you did”*** was the quiet remark.

Obi-Wan folded his arms.

“Yes, well, I’m sincerely regretting mentioning it now, considering your response” he said blithely.

 ***”Which one of you defected?”*** Vos queried, his expression unreadable.

 ***”That’s obvious”*** Mace scoffed. ***”Skywalker can barely look at us, I warned you Obi-Wan! I-”***

“-And yet I’m still here, aren’t I?” Obi-Wan snapped, finally losing his patience. “Anakin was confronted by a Force Entity with _immense_ power, far more power than someone of his age would have been able to defeat!”

 ***”He’s the Chosen One”*** Windu retorted. ***”We trained him for this! It’s been the entirety of his purpose-”***

“-Oh, put a sock in it, Mace” Obi-Wan said wearily, and the Jedi Master’s incredulous expression was visible even through the distorted blue of the holo. “Don’t you think it’s time we acknowledge that Anakin is just as bit as human as the rest of us, damn his midichlorian count? I don’t care about what plans you might have had for him, though perhaps I did in the past. He’s been ostracized and feared by his peers because of how we treat him, no one can keep up with that kind of pressure, and I frankly think its _monstrous_ that we would do such a thing to a _child_ let alone someone who’s barely reached his majority.”

 ***”You need to bring him straight back to the Temple”*** was the cold response. ***”He defected without the influence of a Sith, miles away from the Order. What would the actual Sith Lord we’ve been looking for do with that kind of power?! You’re clearly not thinking clearly about this!”***

“I’m here too” Anakin snapped, finally losing his patience with being quiet. “And I’m done with the Order, with being a Jedi in general. I’ll give you my lightsaber if that’s what it takes, I just want to make my own choices for once.”

 ***”We’d have to put a dampening chip in him”*** one of the elder Masters commented. ***”It’s the only way-”***

“-Absolutely _not!_ ” Obi-Wan snarled, startling Anakin as he stood up. “That’s barbaric and you know it, that’s _death_ to a Jedi.”

Anakin was confused.

“I’d do it-”

“-No, you _won’t_ ” Obi-Wan retorted, rounding on him. “You don’t know what they’re talking about, you can’t do it. With your midichlorian count the buildup would render you brain dead in a week, maybe days.”

 ***”We don’t know that”*** the elder Master replied, back-pedaling in the face of his rage. ***”It might-”**

This time, Obi-Wan slammed his hand down on the table in front of the holoprojector, and the amount of Force-Energy behind it sent the robes of nearly a dozen Jedi Masters parsecs away flying in an invisible gale.

“Out. Of. The. Question” he growled.

 _”Obi-Wan”_ Anakin muttered. __”Are you okay? Do you need a tranquilizer or something-?”__

 _ _”Be quiet”_ _ Obi-Wan hissed before turning back to the Council. _“_ We are resigning from the Order, effective immediately. If you wish us to return our lightsabers, I can have them sent to the Temple. Do we have an agreement?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve forgotten that I was very much present when you chipped Knight Tyavet, and I _remember_ what happened to her.

The silence was longer this time, and Anakin suspected the Council was just as shocked by his former Master’s fury as he was. Under different circumstances, he might has assumed it was a psychic bleed, but his presence in the Bond was strong and confident, not addled and panicked like someone with transferal damage.

 ***”A great loss this is, to the Jedi”*** Yoda said finally, his voice betraying nothing of what he thought of the whole situation. ***”Lodging you will be granted on your return to Coruscant to settle your affairs.*”** Anakin did not miss the look he sent to Windu, whose expression turned from furious to placid to unreadable in the space of a second. ***”May the Force be with you.”***

“Wait” Anakin said hurriedly, brushing away the hairy brow Obi-Wan gave him with a mental shove. “May I see Ahsoka, just once, to say goodbye?”

For the first time in the entirety of their conversation, Yoda’s eyes held a hint of sadness as he gazed back at him unfathomable.

 ***”Too attached to you your former padawan already is”*** was the gruff reply. ***”Balance she needs, and Balance you cannot give. See her, you cannot.”***

With that, their communication was abruptly cut off, and Anakin sincerely felt as if he’d been slapped in the face. Obi-Wan slumped into the pilot’s seat and put his head in his hands, his fingers trembling slightly. Gently, the younger man rotated in his chair and leaned forward to press his cheek against that familiar auburn scruff. After a moment, the older man sighed and lifted his head.

“I don’t think we should go back to Coruscant” he murmured.

Anakin lifted a brow.

“Why not?”

Obi-Wan sat up and rubbed his arms as if to dispel a chill, shaking his head all the while.

“Something’s...not right. I don’t like how readily they agreed to it after hearing how powerful our Bond could be.”

“Remind me why we told them again?” Anakin muttered.

“Because Yoda already knew” was the bitter reply. “That entire island is under video surveillance save for the hidden areas, and Marishe engaged us directly on the path.”

“So why didn’t you mention it in the report?”

“I only noticed the monitoring equipment three days ago” Obi-Wan said miserably. “If I had, I would have included it, but I wanted to save us the grief. Obviously he didn’t tell the rest of the Council, though I don’t necessarily think that helps us at all.”

“And that...chipping stuff?”

At this, his former Master visibly shuddered.

“It’s a permanent Force Inhibitor that goes under your skin” he said harshly.

Anakin frowned.

“I’d still do it if it meant less trouble” he said hesitantly.

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Having the Force cut off from you for a short time doesn’t hurt you” he said quietly. “But having it cut off for an extended amount of time gives the midichlorians in your body no place to go, and they eventually seek out that which resembles the nuances of the Force the most; your consciousness. All Force Users emit small amounts of Force Energy at all times, you particularly, it’s healthy and it’s normal unless you’re trying to shield. While the inhibitor works, it doesn’t account for residual energy left inside the body, and energy in a vessel with no outlet eventually seeks to consume in order to continue longevity. The best solution to this is to have the Force-User drain every bit of energy from their body before being chipped, but that alone is enough to kill you, and if that doesn’t, even a single ounce of midichlorian component would eventually mutate enough to seriously incapacitate the individual. With your Force Energy constantly replicating itself, it would be next to impossible to fully drain you. You’d be forced to keep some of it and eventually your mind would turn on you. Imagine having trouble getting up in the morning, then having trouble getting up at all...you forget how to eat, forget how to relieve yourself without mechanical aid. They’d have you in the Third Ward in a week, like a cripple or a dying person-”

At this point, Obi-Wan lost his mask of furious incredulity and appeared to be struggling not to go on a crying jag. Alarmed, Anakin pulled him into a hug.

“It’s okay” he muttered. “I understand why you were upset now.”

“You need to understand” was the nasally reply. “That even though you’re grown and you can do things and make decisions for yourself, there’s still a part of me that sees you as my ward, and when they want the man I practically raised to be turned into a vegetable it makes me very angry.”

Anakin smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Yeah, I know” he murmured. They sat in silence for a while, wrapped up in each other and in the gravidity of the situation before them. “Can we afford to not go to Coruscant?”

Obi-Wan sighed and straightened, leaning back in his seat and rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“No” he said bitterly. “I have political connections I have to notify of my resignation. I’ve worked very hard to help them get where they are and I’d be a very terrible person if I simply walked away from them with no explanation.” He worried his lip. “We just need to be careful. I...don’t think the Council would be so aggressive as to try to ostracize us publicly, but I’m worried about how Yoda looked at Mace.”

“If he runs me through in the nude I am going to haunt you stark naked ‘till the end of days” Anakin groused.

At this, Obi-Wan laughed.

“Ani, if Mace Windu runs you through _’in the nude’_ I think I should welcome your haunting.”

The younger man grinned.

“Kinky ghost shit, hmm?” When the older man spluttered he laughed. “It’s okay Obi-Wan, I’ll love you with all of my ectoplasm.”

With that, they fired up the engines and launched from the shore, watching as the sparkling surface of Spira grew further and further away...eventually obscured by great fluffy clouds. It was-Anakin reflected-a fitting end to their brief reprieve. Whatever might come, they would at least have the memories of their time there to look back on. Activating the autopilot, Anakin sat back and shoved a hand in his pocket, listening with a sort of satisfied contentment as the shells inside clicked together quietly. Obi-Wan didn’t miss the sound, and the smile that broke over his face was tender, affectionate, and understanding. Anakin immediately decided that Obi-Wan’s lap was a far better place to sit for the remainder of their trip, and though the older man protested, he didn’t really mind. As they stared out at the star-scape before them he could only hope for a light at the end of the tunnel...

...but as it is with all things, before the light...the darkness must have its ‘day.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** So I'm sure you're wondering what the whole ocular bogan thing is. That's another _'I slapped it together'_ thing. Bogan is the old term for the dark side of the force that wielders used on Tython. Ocular refers to the eyes, so when a Force-user uses the dark-side to a certain extent their eyes turn yellow; coined _'ocular bogan'_. it's not a term anywhere in legends or canon (that I know of) so you'll have to excuse my exposition. 
> 
> We're getting there but for some reason I keep adding to the plot when I know I really shouldn't. I'm either going to have Anakin see Palpatine and have shit go down or I'm just going to casually mention that Anakin couldn't get anywhere near Palpatine because he's the Chancellor and Anakin is just a citizen at this point. For some reason I enjoy writing an angry Obi-Wan. I feel like he's just this big ball of angry sometimes and isn't allowed to let it out. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	16. Trifles

“I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

Swiveling in the pilot’s chair, Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at Anakin, who was leaning against the door to the cabin...his face haggard and drawn. He was unclothed save for his leggings, which hung in a wide U-shape over the slope of his hips; his arms folded against his sides and his hair partially shrouding his face in a mess of untamed disorder. The tension radiating from him was palatable, it was what had made him send the younger man to bed five hours earlier...though it appeared his efforts had been unsuccessful. It had begun perhaps thirty minutes after they left Spira, and Obi-Wan was desperate to address the issue but he was too focused on external nuances of the Force to be able to have an in-depth conversation. Whatever the Council was planning, he was _feeling_ it from a massive distance away...though he couldn’t discern exactly what it was or who all was involved, and it deeply concerned him. It was bothering his companion as well, to a degree far greater than his own.

“I’ve been trying forever” Anakin responded hoarsely. “I can’t relax, and yeah, I’ve tried meditating.” He shifted uncomfortably, one hand loosening its death-grip on his side to scratch his shoulder. “My brain just won’t stop.We’re only an hour out anyway, might as well give up and get dressed, once we get to a hotel we can sleep.” Blue eyes softened as they roamed over Obi-Wan. “It’s hard to sleep without you, y’know.”

The aforementioned man sighed.

“I understand, but I can _feel_ how uncomfortable you are Anakin, and it’s not completely due to the fact that I’m not lying next to you with ten pillows over my head to drown out your snoring.”

The grin that graced his lover’s face was warm and the affection it was genuine, but a whisper in their Bond told Obi-Wan that it had come with great personal effort...like stretching a length of synth-rubber that had been left in the sun for hours on end. Making an on-point decision, Obi-Wan momentarily probed the autopilot with an errant Force tendril, standing up as he did so. When he was satisfied with the continuity of their course, he crossed the tight space and tugged Anakin into his arms, letting his fingers slide down the length of his spine ‘till they rested at the small of his back. The younger man shuddered and turned his head so he could kiss Obi-Wan’s cheek, slumping as a small increment of the anxiety suffusing him dissipated. It wasn’t enough, not _nearly_ enough for him to declare himself unconcerned...but it was something.

“Do we have instant caf?” was the mumbled query.

Obi-Wan smiled indulgently.

“You’ll have to look for it, I’m still trying to unravel whatever’s waiting for us when we land.”

Anakin sighed and pulled away so he could stretch, yawning as he did so.

“D’you think that’ll really change anything?”

The older man grimaced and shrugged.

“If I can pinpoint something, I’ll be able to rest easier when we check ourselves in. I switched our booking somewhere else. Dex loaned me the credits.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow.

“Can we trust Dex?”

Obi-Wan frowned.

“Dex would rather die than oust me, or you for that manner. He’s known us for over twenty years, and he knows what it’s like to be in situations like ours.”

His companion nodded absentmindedly, turning so he could return to the cabin. Obi-Wan watched him go with no small amount of consternation, but he brushed his worries aside so he could focus on the task at hand. The closer they got to Coruscant, the more apprehensive he became, and he was not a nervous person by nature. The Force was warning him, but in what way and to what regard he couldn’t guess. Sliding back into his seat, he threw himself into a trance in the hopes of discovering something new, despite the sinking feeling in the back of his mind that whispered that he couldn’t hope to stop what was coming no matter what he did. There was a congealment of Dark Side nuance over the city planet, but he seriously doubted that it was coming from the Temple. Yoda had long suspected that the Sith they were looking for was already on Coruscant, and while Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to sense his presence before, he could sense it now. Anakin’s defection had given him a clearer view of how Dark-Side Forcethread worked; and now that he knew the feeling, his view of Coruscant was alarming. Whoever the Sith was, he had a _lot_ of influence and a ridiculous amount of power. Half the planet was engulfed in thick, insidious threads of a black purpose he couldn’t discern.

The Jedi’s influence was still there, but it was muted and corrupted in ways that were horrifying. Moreover, Anakin’s Signature bore a distinct imprint that was psychically similar to the Sith’s, which told him that he’d had contact with him before, and often. Obi-Wan seriously doubted that his former padawan was running about with a Sith lord-not intentionally anyway-but it was very possible he was a public figure that Anakin spent a lot of time with. The only other possibility to consider was that the Sith was a member of the Order, and the mere idea was enough to make him want to throw up. The amount of discipline it took to sew so much influence over the Galaxy and go undetected left him reeling. He was distinctly conscious of the fact that he could not confront this issue alone, and certainly not with Anakin. The younger man had only recently recovered from his diversion to the Dark Side, and there was a part of him that knew that if he was faced by a Sith with that much power he would Fall, and it was very likely he would never recover.

Wrenching himself from his trance, Obi-Wan huffed and ran a despairing hand over his face. He didn’t like to think about it, and he _certainly_ hadn’t talked to Anakin about it, but when the younger man had briefly taken control of his mind, his hold on whatever control he had left had been smashed to pieces. He was distinctly aware of how much _power_ it took to subvert consciousness, and Anakin was constantly battling his own psyche for dominance. With their Signatures combined, he had as much access to that power as the other, and it was _terrifying._ Obi-Wan had never fully appreciated how much discipline Anakin maintained to keep himself from veritably blowing up. Now, with their interlaced midichlorian count, he felt like a vibroblade turned to maximum...one wrong move and he was going to bleed mentally...vomiting that much power was enough to level the Temple. The idea of doing so much damage would have been inherently disgusting to him before their encounter with 'Rishe, but now that he’d felt how tangible the Dark Side was...it was reserve for the sake of saving face, rather than reserve because the idea was revolting.

Undoubtably, he knew it was _wrong_ but the call was still there and no amount of meditation made it fully disappear. Physical intimacy amplified it. Anakin’s desires were so strong he was constantly battling against complete loss of composure. The younger man’s desire to possess was enslaving, even when he was actively trying to repress it. Obi-Wan had been forced to acknowledge the fact that everything they were was coagulating, and if they didn’t learn to control it they were going to do some serious harm. He had the reigns...for now, but if Anakin defected he would inevitably follow and the destruction that would come in their wake would kill people. The Sith was powerful, yes, but they were _more_ powerful and _that_ was frightening. The worst part of it was that it wasn’t Anakin’s fault. Anakin had been controlling himself for years despite the raging inferno that blazed below the surface of his skin...but Obi-Wan had zero experience with it. He’d never been weak, but he was not _this powerful_ , and having so much at his fingertips was an ugly feeling.

“I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan startled as Anakin gripped the back of his chair, his fingers lingering on his sleeve as he slipped into the co-pilot’s seat. He was clutching a thermos that was assumably filled with caf, and his expression was contrite. Swallowing convulsively, the older man attempted to clear his thoughts.

“What do you mean?”

The younger man smiled sadly and leaned forward in his seat, setting his cup on the consol.

“I keep forgetting you aren’t used to having my midichlorian count.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Believe me, I know how hard it is to control it. I’m still adjusting to having your Signature along with mine, and I forgot that you’re doing the same...but with _more._

The older man made to deny him his anxiety, to reassure him, but he relented at the last moment. If he was going to have any semblance of Balance, he would need Anakin’s help.

“How do you deal with it?” he said quietly.

Leather-clad shoulders shrugged.

“I guess I just learned to live with it” was the contemplative response. “You’ve gotta shove it to the side or send it out into the Force...never was good at the second one. Staying active helps, training helps more and combat is better.” Blue eyes softened as they took in Obi-Wan’s apprehension. “We could...try and sever the Bond, if you want.”

His stomach lurched.

“I...don’t think either of us can do that” Obi-Wan murmured. “We’re past that point, as terrifying as that sounds. We’d die, or we’d go mad.”

The younger man nodded and sipped his caf almost absentmindedly.

“We’ll just have to meditate more, and together” was the idle response. Obi-Wan exhaled shakily as a warm hand cupped his cheek. “I’m _really_ sorry, Obi-Wan.”

He shook his head and chuckled weakly.

“I think...I think I understand how much you’ve struggled now” he replied, catching his fingers and holding them there. “I want you to know I admire you for it, I couldn’t have done it, I’d never have survived.”

Anakin’s expression was solemn.

“I have you to thank as much for that as anyone. You were nice to me when you didn’t have to be, you made adjustments for me where another Master wouldn’t.”

“Maybe that would have been better” Obi-Wan whispered. “Maybe another Master wouldn’t have let it get this far.”

“Maybe” his former padawan agreed. “But if I had the chance to go back and change it all, I wouldn’t. If I’d had anyone else as my Master I’d be a Sith by now. Your tolerance kept me stable, and no amount of extra discipline can account for kindness.”

The specs beeped abruptly, heralding their descent into the atmosphere, and Obi-Wan straightened so he could disengage the autopilot. Before them, the glittering spires of Coruscant were slowly coming into view as their altitude dropped...the massive, urban sprawl of the city planet luminescent against the evening blaze of Coruscant Prime. Hesperidium was just visible on the horizon; and Obi-Wan knew the other three moons would follow in quick succession. He could feel Anakin reaching out into the Force, observing their surroundings while his were preoccupied with navigation. He was aiming for the Trotus Exit to CocoTown, as it was less conspicuous than Kansen Entrance. It was somewhat illegal but he had no desire to make their entrance into the city obvious, and if he had to break a traffic law or two to do it he was just going to have to avoid getting caught.

“Zi-Kree Sector?” Anakin commented. “Let me guess, the Dewback.”

“Yes” Obi-Wan said shortly. “It’s cheap, it’s disreputable, and it’s out of the way.” He offered an apologetic glance before continuing. “I hate to say this, but we’re going to have to lose your shuttle.”

Anakin nodded, his expression disconsolate but resigned, and did not deign to reply. They ditched the shuttle about three miles from the Dewback Inn and made the rest of the journey on foot. By the time they arrived at their destination it was very much dark, and Obi-Wan was thankful for the cover as they entered the establishment with their hoods drawn. It took some argument with the concierge to provide them a room, but after a brief call to Dex that left him pale and shaking, their attendant stood and led them to their rooms with no further comment. Obi-Wan was-not for the first time-thankful for friends in low places.

Their hotel room was exactly that-a room-with a ‘fresher whose door was partially hanging off, and a bed whose sheets Anakin refused to sleep in until they were washed. It took the younger man a few minutes to locate a sonic fabrispan but once everything was in order he flopped onto the mattress without preamble. Obi-Wan was less impulsive, and he made sure to check that everything was secure as it should be; double-checking the lock on the door and drawing the moldy curtains. He was just contemplating using the ‘fresher when a wave of exhaustion hit him like a blaster bolt...his knees bucking slightly as his mind insisted it was ready to sleep _right there_...damn the fact that he wasn’t anywhere near the bed.

It took all of his mental prowess to stagger over to the mattress and slip out of his clothes, crawling under the covers as darkness gathered at the corners of his brain. Anakin made an incoherent noise of contentment as he pulled him close, his hand trailing down his chest to rest against the soft-firm skin of his stomach as they were both hurtled into unconsciousness...

When they next woke it was pitch-dark...not the dark of the typical Coruscant witching hour, but _’the power’s been cut and there’s someone else is in the room that wasn’t invited’_ dark. The hum of a lightsaber was audible as Obi-Wan’s mind fought to catch up with the current situation; he vaguely registered that the glow behind it was purple before Anakin’s howl cut through the silence; splitting the channel between their minds wide open and making the world explode behind his closed eyelids as there was a sensation of falling from a vast height. A need to protect had implanted itself in his psyche and forced itself outwards, screaming an incoherent muddle of fear, anger, and tenacity. Obi-Wan tasted metal in his mouth, his side was _burning_....his body convulsed once...twice; green flooded the space behind his eyes....and he knew only darkness....

* * *

 When Obi-wan woke he was surprised to find himself still in bed.

For a moment, he was tempted to think that the vague, slightly blurry events he could recall from the night before were merely a dream. He could feel the familiar warmth of Anakin’s body at his back, and he was just as naked as he had been when they’d been attacked. Denial, however, was only a state someone of his level of discipline could remain in for so long, and Obi-Wan was forced to acknowledge that the mattress they were currently resting on was far softer than the one on which they’d fallen asleep. The sheets were luxurious; soft, silky and incredibly cool despite the obvious warmth of the room around them. His pillow appeared to be made of shimmersilk, though he couldn’t be positively sure...and he was reluctant to open his eyes in order to find out. Still, even though every nerve in his body screamed that there was absolutely no point in getting up right now, Obi-Wan opened his eyes.

If he hadn’t been lying down, he was fairly sure he’d have fallen over.

He’d been in this room before, but as a guard, not a guest. Jedi had absolutely no place in Senate-reserved suites unless they were doing their job. And they were _certainly_ not allowed in the Chancellor’s private guest room. Obi-Wan knew the layout of the suite; he’d gone over it with Anakin when Palpatine requested that his former padawan be put on his emergency list of private guards. The map had come in 3D form, and there was no mistaking the red and black wallpaper that he’d glared at for an hour before discerning the location of a secret door that led to the lounge. It was also hard to miss the four-poster canopy bed with stamps of the Galactic Trade Alliance. The place was aesthetically unremarkable, but it held a myriad of passages leading to different areas inside and outside the establishment. Most of them were escape routes or false hallways made to deter possible assailants, but there was one whose entrance was marked but the destination unclear. A small part of Obi-Wan wanted to get up and immediately investigate it, but he knew this was an unwise idea.

Sitting up, the former Master put a hand to his head as he attempted to recall exactly how they’d gotten from one of Coruscant’s shadiest upper-level sectors to the height of political luxury. Nothing was forthcoming, but the sense of frayed, unkempt strands in the Forcebond told him it had not been an easy feat. He remembered acknowledging the power had been cut and seeing the vague violet outline of Mace’s lightsaber before everything went sideways and his memory trickled out of him like a sieve. There was another undertone, stronger and more virulent than Windu’s but he couldn’t place it. Looking to his left, he was surprised to find that his robes were neatly folded on the nightstand next to the bed, his lightsaber resting on top of it.

Well, that was something.

Deciding that while he was entirely clueless he might as well take a shower, Obi-Wan grabbed his clothes and wandered into the ‘fresher. The water was warm and deliciously clear, something that even the Temple couldn’t fully provide, and he spent rather longer under the spray of the shower than he’d have liked to admit. By the time he had pulled on his clothes and exited the bathroom, Anakin was beginning to stir. Settling himself on the opposite side of the bed, Obi-Wan fumbled with his boot lacings while his former padawan got over his initial shock.

“What the _hell_ are we doing here?!”

The older man paused and straightened, meeting the younger man’s bewildered gaze.

“I was hoping you could tell me” he said calmly.

Anakin’s Signature roiled as he attempted to corral his surprise in favor of logic, his mouth forming a thin line as he contemplated their situation.

“I...remember there was someone else in the hotel room” he muttered. “Someone familiar.”

“It was Mace” Obi-Wan supplied, getting up to hunt for his other boot.

 

Anakin appeared thoughtful but unsurprised.

“I thought I heard a lightsaber...speaking of that, where’s min- _fuck_ -!!”

Whipping his head around, he felt a rush of anxiety as he was presented with the view of the younger man doubled over in pain, clutching his side. Rising, Obi-Wan hastened to aid him, kneeling so that he could brush those slender fingers aside. When he did, his breath caught. Anakin sported a long, nasty-looking wound from just under his armpit to his hipbone. It was definitely treated; there were several clear bacta patches overlapping each other along the entirety of the injury, and a fresh set of patches, gauze, and disinfectant was resting on the bedside table, along with a bottle of what appeared to be pain killers. Anakin’s expression was bewildered and somewhat uncomfortable, but he didn’t appear awake enough to fully process what was going on.

Tracing the gash with a feather-light touch, Obi-Wan confirmed that it was indeed a saber wound...one that he was certain was intended to kill Anakin-one that _would_ have if he hadn’t rolled over at the last moment. A cold, unrelenting fury suffused his mind as he attempted to rationalize the fact that they’d survived an assassination attempt from the _Council._ Frowning, he took a deep breath and acknowledged that perhaps Mace wasn’t acting on orders...maybe he had just decided to _act_. This was too precarious a situation for him to jump to assumptions.

“That’s going to scar” Obi-Wan muttered, peeling off the layers of bacta and ignoring Anakin’s subsequent hiss. “At least the veins are cauterized.” He began the process of cleaning the injury, neither of them commenting on the familiarity of the situation. White blood cells were gathering to coagulate near the surface, and it didn’t smell like anything had started to fester...a scent both of them had become accustomed to after spending weeks hastily patching blaster burns and covering shrapnel wounds with strips of cloth in the heat of prolonged battle. “Keep off that side in combat” he continued rolling out a bacta strip and peeling the protective coating away. “If you rotate too much it’s going to rip you open.”

“Preaching to the- _shit!_ -c-choir here” Anakin replied through gritted teeth.

Obi-Wan huffed but didn’t reply, beginning the process of wrapping Anakin’s middle in a sheath of thick medical bandage. He was tucking the ends through and securing the clips when a knock at the entrance to the suite gave both of them pause. The older man narrowed his eyes and threw out his Signature, surprised to find that there was only one person waiting for them, and not the entirety of the Red Guard ready to court-martial them.

“Help me get dressed” Anakin said in a low voice, sliding his tunic over his head with trembling fingers and gesturing to his pants.

Obi-Wan hastened to comply, standing once he was finished and crossing the space between bed and door with a feeling of apprehension. Behind him, his former padawan was pulling on his cloak, one hand clenched on the nightstand with knuckles that were white as snow, the other under the folds of his cloak grasping the hilt to his lightsaber. Logically, he knew that Anakin would be fair useless in a direct confrontation. You couldn’t fight with your side looking like a Colo-Claw with very smooth teeth had taken a bite out of you. Still, Obi-Wan didn’t want to damage his pride by insisting he stand down. It turned out his anxiety was unnecessary, though the tension that wracked his body was no less dampened. Palpatine was waiting on the other side of the door with a patient but amused expression, maroon robes trailing across the floor as Obi-Wan inclined his head and stepped aside to let him through. At the sight of him, Anakin’s expression brightened immediately.

“Chancellor!” he said, hastening to bow before his face contorted into a mask of pain.

Obi-Wan made to help him but Palpatine was faster, and he watched with no small amount of surprise as the elder man led Anakin over to a comfortable recliner and helped him into it, rewarding the embarrassed 'thanks’ he got in return with a fond smile.

“None of that” was the brusque reply. “You are a guest in my home-both of you-” he nodded at Obi-Wan, who half-bowed out habit. “-You are injured and you have suffered a traumatic event. I won’t have any of that stiff-necked dogma around here.”

“What exactly happened?” Anakin demanded, earning him a sharp look from Obi-Wan and a chuckle from Palpatine, who gestured for the former Master to join them as he settled into a high-backed chair.

“You must understand” the white-haired man began, learning forward with an expression of conspiratorial empathy that was rather too forced in Obi-Wan’s opinion. “I only received word of your return to Coruscant via Jedi Master Vos, and I had little time to act.”

“Act?” Obi-Wan queried sharply.

“Oh yes” Palpatine continued, his brows furrowing with concern. “You see, Vos informed me that Masters Yoda and Windu intended to act against your resignation from the Order without the approval of the full Council. It was only through happenstance that he overheard their plans and _begged_ me to do something about it. My sources were able to track your location by monitoring Knight Skywalker’s flightpath, but it took quite a bit longer for us to find you once you abandoned it to continue on foot. By the time we picked up your trail Master Windu was closing in...and I sent the Red Guard to intercept him, but I needn’t have bothered.”

A cold feeling slithered up Obi-Wan’s spine, and he and Anakin shared a concerned glance.

“What...what happened?” Anakin said quietly. “Is...is Mace alright?”

There was no mistaking the hunger that bloomed in the Chancellor’s eyes as his gaze swept between the two of them. It was predatory and possessive, edged with something that Obi-Wan couldn’t quite name.

“I can’t tell you exactly what happened, as there aren’t many witnesses alive to see it” Palpatine continued, and the relish in his voice was sickening. “The locals are blaming it on a gas leak, but gas leaks don’t cause green flames...and certainly not green flames that emit sonic pressure. You both were unharmed save for what Master Windu accomplished before... _whatever_ power decided to protect you came into being...but the body count is currently at twenty-five.” He waved an errant hand at their horrified expressions. “A trifle, I assure you. You were protecting yourselves, fallout happens to the best of us.”

“...And Windu?” Obi-Wan whispered, hardly daring to ask.

Palpatine’s expression was contrite and apologetic, but the glitter in his eyes was triumphant.

“...Master Windu was declared dead on the scene, everything was vaporized but his skeletal structure.” And with that, the Chancellor leaned forward to drive his point home. “Don’t _either_ of you worry about anything. You were in perfect rights to defend your lives, and I’ve given you amnesty from the Order. A move against you is a move against me. Let me _help_ you, my boys. I know how it is to be subjugated for having too much power, stay here and take your time to heal...”

“...then, _then_ we will talk about plans for the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I kind of despise myself for this chapter, the angst-level is so high. Unfortunately, we have one more chapter of this shite before I can take things down a notch again. So, yeah. Anakin and Obi-Wan are in a _really terrible_ position. Moreover, neither of them know that Palpatine is the Sith, so they don't even realize how fucked they really are. However, they _do_ know he's the Chancellor, and failing to work with him never works in anyone's interests. You're probably wondering if Vos really contacted him, and all I have to say about that is you'll have to stay tuned to find out. This is kind of becoming ridiculously insane. I can't tell if it's my mood or if I really want to close things off to such a great extent that I'm examining every angle. And for those of you who like Mace, I'm sorry. If it helps, I fully intend to have him avenged. 
> 
> **Edit:** My updates have slowed down, but this is more due to a busy schedule throughout the last week than writers's block. I haven't had any time to write. To give you some form of schedule, I can guarantee you an update at least once a week, though now that my days have cleared up again, it will possibly be more often than that. 
> 
> **Another Edit:** I want to emphasize on the fact that Palpatine is a liar...And he is good at it. He is lying in this chapter, though about what I won't say.
> 
>  
> 
> **R &R**


	17. Spindle Puppets

Anakin felt like a prisoner.

Sipping on some form of caf-something that his stipend could never afford, he supposed-the blond glared at the traffic passing the window in front of him. Seated in the lounge, he could sense Obi-Wan meditating in the bedroom, but there was no point in disturbing him. Palpatine had consistently proven himself trustworthy in the past, and he was greatly reluctant to look at him in any other way now, but this was strange. Politicians didn’t offer amnesty to members of the Order. The Order dealt with the Order and the Senate...the Senate. It was an unspoken rule between the two powers that they could work in tangent, but that their rules were their own and interference was not welcome.

Anakin had no interest in politics and had never pretended to; he’d always assumed the Chancellor’s affectation towards him was that of a confidant, but not a political ally. If he had extended his friendship to Obi-Wan, he might have felt differently, but he never had...even going so far as to suggest that his former Master had no place offering opinions in judicial and legislative affairs due to his inability to see past Temple dogma. At the time, he’d been young and angry, and hearing someone criticize a facet of the Order had made his pubescent mind chortle with glee....now, the memory brought about a feeling of foreboding.

The Chancellor was not forthcoming regarding his ‘plans for the future.’ His meetings with them were rare and sporadic, and instead of ‘making plans’, he spent a great amount of time waxing philosophic...with a hungry eye on Obi-Wan that made Anakin feel a little nauseous. His mind played over the multiple times he’d met with Palpatine in years past...listening to him play to his ideals ‘till he was head over heels in bitterness and anger. He could see now why Obi-Wan was always so concerned when he returned from such meetings spouting wild theories that had sounded so much better coming from the Chancellor’s mouth than from his. It was strange viewing it as an outsider; though luckily, Obi-Wan didn’t seem to be as easily swayed. His counterarguments were sharp-witted and quick-tongued, and while Palpatine laughed at his prowess Anakin could _feel_ his impatience and frustration. A part of him was incredibly proud of Obi-Wan...though he’d been clever and funny far longer than Anakin had known him, it was always wonderful seeing him in action.

If he could venture a guess, he’d have said they’d been there the better part of two weeks. Attempts at leaving left them on the wrong side of the Guard, and it was generally not a good idea to piss them off. Still, once Obi-Wan had read his way through every single book he could get his hands on, and once Anakin had exhausted the suite’s vast supply of holofilms...they were getting bored, and paranoid. Neither of them believed in upsetting politicians without good reason, and it was with unspoken agreement that they’d done their best to cater to the Chancellor’s whims...but time was something neither of them wanted to waste. Obi-Wan had political connections, but his opportunity to warn them of his departure was long gone, and now they just wanted to leave.

Anakin could remember nothing of Windu’s death. He had vague flashes of recollection; the hum of a lightsaber, the abrupt, crippling pain in his side...but not much else. He shared Obi-Wan’s impression of the need to protect...but in his mind, the urge didn’t come from either of them. It instead came from an outside force, and it was an aggressive, possessive feeling that didn’t mirror their feelings for each other at all. It made him question whether they had even killed Mace, or if his death was part of a larger more complicated move executed by the Order. There was no denying the individual in possession of the kill was Force-Sensitive...the amount of power he’d felt in the room was suffocating. Sharing his thoughts with Obi-Wan was fruitless. While the older man agreed that someone other than Windu had been in the room, he vehemently disagreed that it had been a member of the Order. When pressed, he wouldn’t share his reasoning as to _why_ , but his psyche was infuriatingly concrete. Whatever the reasoning behind his opinion, Obi-Wan was immovable. Disagreements aside, they were both desperately hopeful of the possibility that they hadn’t killed Windu. Anakin hadn’t liked him, but he’d never wanted him dead. There were too few Jedi in the Galaxy for him to condone an execution like the one their former comrade had gone through. Yes, he’d have liked to have seen justice served, but not in the form of a body bag.

Gritting his teeth, Anakin rose and walked forward so he could peer down at the streets below; one hand gripping his side. Most of it was healed, but he’d never be able to fight the same way again. Despite Obi-Wan’s best efforts, he’d had nerve endings severed that would cost a fortune to regenerate or repair, and without the help of a Temple Healer, he was going to have to give up Form V. He’d discovered the issue when Obi-Wan had been running his fingers down his side and he realized that while he could see it...he couldn’t feel it. It wasn’t a constant problem, and it never spanned the entirety of the injury, but it was bad in cold weather and rain, and extended physical activity tended to trigger it badly. _This_ they’d discovered while sparring when he’d nearly impaled himself on his own blade.

Severity depended on multiple external factors, but it generally felt as if his side had fallen asleep...with the ‘wakeup’ period lasting several hours instead of a few minutes. It took an immense amount of discipline not to lose his head over it. Obi-Wan consistently reminded him that while they might still have their lightsabers, they were not Jedi anymore, and they were incredibly lucky that one of them hadn’t sustained worse in the field. Anakin often had to grit his teeth to keep from pointing out that he’d have _rather_ gotten hurt like this in the field...being crippled while lying in bed was incredibly pathetic.

 

“We need to get out of here.”

Anakin startled as Obi-Wan’s voice cut across the mostly-silent space, breaking the heavy thoughtfulness of the moment like the swing of a scythe. His former Master was wending his way around a vast array of stuffed armchairs so he could stand next to him, brushing the fingers of his mechanical hand slightly before turning his gaze to the window. Dawn was breaking over the rooftops in a crimson blaze of color; staining chrome and steel a haunting scarlet as daylight made its inevitable debut.

_”Can_ we get out of here?” the younger man muttered, reaching backwards to fetch his caf from a coffee table.

Obi-Wan sighed.

“We know the layout of the Suite better than anyone save for the Red Guard” he replied. “There has to be an inconspicuous way out.”

Anakin shook his head and stepped back so he could sit down again, the ache in his side suddenly intolerable.

“We don’t have the clearance” he countered. “All the escapes are passcode protected and the majority are guarded. Besides, isn’t the Chancellor trying to keep us safe?”

“I don’t really know what he’s doing, Anakin” his former Master grumbled. “But whatever it is...he has his own agenda, and you know how much I hate being led by a tether.” He glanced sharply at him. “Do you really think he’s keeping us here for our own good?”

The younger man hesitated, torn between the obvious and his loyalty to Palpatine. Obi-Wan’s gaze was patient but pitying, and he knew he couldn’t keep alluding to something that probably wasn’t there.

“...I...I think you’re right” he admitted, covering his eyes with a trembling hand. “But I can’t think for shit right now, and I don’t remember any way out of here that doesn’t come with a potential risk.”

The rustle of cloth gave him pause, and he watched as Obi-Wan pulled a chair directly in front of him-close enough that their knees touched-leaning foward so he could study his face.

“It’s hard to think of someone you trust as someone you can’t” he began hesitantly, grey eyes fixed on Anakin’s expression. “Believe me, I know. I trusted the Order...and you nearly died because of it. But that doesn’t mean you have to hate someone, you can still appreciate what they’ve given you when you distance yourself. Detachment doesn’t equate betrayal.”

Anakin breathed in sharply, astonished-not for the first time-by Obi-Wan’s incredible ability to discern what was bothering him. The acuity of his statement was so on-point he startled the both of them by letting out a short, somewhat bitter laugh...an exclamation he quickly remedied by taking the other man’s hand and pressing his lips to his palm.

“You’re too damn smart for your own good” he said ruefully.

Obi-Wan chuckled and freed his hand so he could ruffle Anakin’s hair.

“Qui-Gon liked to tell me that” he replied, the ghost of a grin flickering across his visage. “Rampantly.”

“I’m...really tired of running” the younger man continued, and he didn’t understand the alarm that briefly crossed his mentor’s features. “We’re always up against something we don’t understand...or something we can’t control. It’s always a clusterfuck, and we always make it out by the skin of our teeth.” He sighed. “Did you have an idea for getting out or are we just going to jump out the window and hang onto a speeder?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“As much as you might enjoy hanging onto the back of a vehicle going ninety miles an hour down a crowded civilian causeway, I truly don’t think my joints could survive it. There’s a passage near the kitchen that wasn’t marked with a destination. I have an inkling where it might lead, and it’s not much better than here, but it’s somewhere.”

Anakin cocked an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Where’s that?”

“The Temple.”

The dread that suffused him at the statement was over-exaggerated, he knew that. Even if the Council blamed Windu’s death on them, they would still have a fair chance to defend themselves. Palpatine didn’t care if they were innocent or not, he very obviously wanted to use them, and while Anakin was indescribably grateful for the kindness he had shown him over the years, he was never going to be a pawn. Slavery had taught him very little about independence, and when he’d joined the Order, he’d been no better off. His time with Obi-Wan on Spira had given him a small but weighty picture of what his life _could_ be. Granted, he didn’t want to be lazing around on a beach all day long-even luxury had its limits-but Anakin knew he couldn’t be subservient anymore. Swallowing, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking a moment to center himself before forming his reply.

“Aren’t you afraid that they’ll...separate us?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling crookedly.

“That’s not going to happen. They know better than that, and if they don’t, our Signature should certainly tell them otherwise.” He looked away. “I don’t like to boast, I think it’s a frankly abhorrent pastime, but we are-to put it frankly-too powerful for the Council to attempt to engage.”

Anakin snorted incredulously.

“C’mon, Yoda by himself would be a nightmare to battle.”

“I’m banking on the fact that Yoda would not, in good conscience, allow such a mess to occur within Temple confines.”

“...That’s a lot of supposition.”

“It’s all we have right now, but I’m willing to listen if you have any better ideas.”

“Why don’t we just shield and try to make it out unnoticed?”

Obi-Wan frowned.  
“Do you really want to walk away like that? We have too much information to simply traipse off to some far corner of the Galaxy and let the rest of the Jedi attempt to unravel things on their own. The Sith is here, on Coruscant, possibly in this Sector of the city.”

The Bond rippled...it’s normally brilliant green hue taking on a thread of vibrant red...the older man’s reticence bleeding across their link to wash against the shores of Anakin’s psyche. Narrowing his eyes, Anakin leaned forward and grasped Obi-Wan’s chin, concerned by the reticence that he encountered before his partner finally acquiesced and aligned his gaze.

“You’re hiding something” he said bluntly, and his former Master flinched. “There’s more to why you want to report to the Temple, isn’t there?”

“I...don’t think I should tell you” was the unsteady reply.

“If we’re going to get through this, we can’t have any secrets” Anakin snapped. “And I don’t really understand why you’re wanting to keep them now.” He hesitated, torn between his desire to respect Obi-Wan and the burning, instinctive impulse he had to _control_ him. “I could get it out of you” he finally muttered, more to himself than anyone. “And you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

“But you’re not going to” was the serene reply. Obi-Wan’s expression was understanding but firm. “Not if you truly love me, as you so claim.”

The rage that boiled up inside of him was involuntary...a combination of both self-hatred and fury at the man sitting so calmly before him; because how _dare_ he question his feelings for him when he’d gone out of his way to prove himself utterly devoted? At the same time, Anakin acknowledged that Obi-Wan wasn’t questioning him, he was _believing_ in him. It was this that gave him pause, forcing his exhausted and defensive mind to look at things objectively. He couldn’t force Obi-Wan to give him his thoughts, not without doing irreparable damage to their relationship, and what’s more, he didn’t really want to. Anakin deflated, slumping in his seat and forcing himself to look away.

“No, I’m not” he murmured. “We all have secrets.”

“Palpatine has a Force Signature.”

This was said calmly, as if they were merely discussing the weather, and not the possibility of a very influential political figure having abilities that were reserved for Jedi. Anakin blinked.

“What?”

“The Chancellor is Force-Sensitive” Obi-Wan reiterated. “He’s shielding magnificently, so I can’t get the entire scope of it, but it’s there.”

The younger man gaped at him.

“And you weren’t going to _tell_ me this?!”

Obi-Wan managed to look contrite.

“I didn’t want to get ahead of myself.”

Anakin spluttered for a moment before replying.

“Okay, so what?”

The older man was now wearing a look that his younger self would have equated with a severe tongue-lashing, and he braced himself for the worst.

“Think about it” he snapped. “How did Palpatine get to where he is right now? People don’t become Chancellors overnight...no matter how wildly popular they are. He has near-complete control over the entire Senate, and _no one_ save perhaps Bail Organa and Senator Amidala have moved forward to question him, and they do so under the uptmost discrepancy. People who disagree with him disappear without any trace and he’s been milking you for _years_ Anakin.”

“Obi-Wan” the blond hissed. “Do you know what you’re suggesting?!”

“Yes” was the blunt reply. “I do. And so do you...and the fact that you won’t say it tells me that you’ve considered it before.”

Panic; cold, insidious, and rife with denial rose to grip him by the throat. His mind reeled as images of Palpatine flickered through his brain like flash-clips from an ancient holo-film; snapping and relentless as memory worked to reconcile with reality. He could see Palpatine standing next to Padme as she moved for a vote of no confidence for the previous Chancellor...the crumpled, broken body of Dorme lying on the stairs of the Senate building...crimson spilling out onto metallic duracrete. The warm, comforting voice of the man he’d turned to when even his Master seemed bent against him was suddenly insidious; the dulcet and gravelly tones of his voice dark and all-encompassing. He’d _comforted_ him when he’d confessed his terrible slaughter of the Sand People, and the guilt that he’d tried so hard to push to the back of his mind was suddenly suffocating. Palpatine had encouraged his degradation....even if he hadn’t been able to see it, and now he knew _why._ Dimly, Anakin was aware of the fact that he’d risen only to fall to his knees, forcing Obi-Wan to scramble out of his chair so he could pull it away, the echo of his voice in his eardrums immeasurably distant. It was as if someone had pulled a veil from in front of his eyes...he’d always assumed he’d been safe from manipulation outside the Temple.

He was terribly, horribly wrong.

“It’s not _fair_!”

Too loud, too close and too obvious. The volume of his exclamation would bring the Guard through the door at any given second but he didn’t _care_. He’d given his life to subservience, had acknowledged it at a very young age and accepted it. The Order had pulled his strings 'till they snapped into pieces and left him free-falling in an endless void of self-doubt and confusion...Higii had stripped him of what little innocence he had left...and 'Rishe had brought his debts crashing down around him with the force of a thousand stars exploding behind his eyes. He was responsible for a massive shift in the nuances of the Force; sending Chaos screaming away from Mortis like a thousand hounds baying at the scent of blood...he’d killed innocent women and children because he could not face _death_. And now, _now_ he was a mechanism for a Sith regime, for something he’d abhorred and hated simply for everything it stood for; not because the Jedi disapproved but because it represented slavery, suffering and murder. Blind to his own weakness and culpability, he’d formed an irreversible Bond with the one man who had never tried to make him be someone who he wasn’t. Anakin had led him to defy everything he believed in...everything that defined him...he’d invaded his mind and subverted his psyche because he wanted control, when in reality he had so little control he might as well be brain-dead. Then, as if his previous actions weren’t enough, he’d very likely led both of them to murder a member of the Order who was revered and respected.

_“I’m a fucking pawn”_ he thought despairingly. _“I’ve always been a pawn, and it’s never going to stop.”_

...But he could make sure it never happened again.

The whisper came...like a single thread in a room filled with tangled webs of perpetuity and despair. It wended its way into his heart and dug its talons deep ‘till resolve spilled over; a thick wave of noir determination that had neither aim nor purpose...only _silence._ And as Anakin reached out to extinguish the the trembling, exhausted and guilt-ridden threads of his psyche...he couldn’t see any other way out. He wanted peace, and he wanted _nothing_...for once. He wanted to make his own choices, and the Chosen One would never be capable of such a thing...the universe wasn’t going to give him that luxury.

“Anakin, _no_.”

He wasn’t prepared for the ferocity behind Obi-Wan’s statement.

Even as the older man reached out to tether himself to his consciousness, Anakin acknowledged that he couldn’t have fought it even if he tried. The strength of his former Master’s emotions rolled over him like the swell of the tide over the high cliffs on Spira; crashing into him in a wave of sapphire blue and tugging him back from whatever ledge he’d poised himself over. Opening his eyes took every ounce of strength he possessed, but it was worth the effort. Obi-Wan’s face was deathly pale, and the fear in his features was of an ilk he’d never seen before. Achingly familiar arms encompassed as much of him as they could; strained and wrought with a tension that he’d only seen once before...shortly after the death of Qui-Gon Jinn.

He acknowledged that as much power as there was behind the older man’s conviction...his psyche was _weeping._ Externally, he could wear the mask of the mentor; the rock and the sympathizer...but Obi-Wan was terrified. Images of a younger version of him sitting alone in his room holding his former Master’s coat were bleeding through his mental shields like blood against white linen. Memories of a loneliness Anakin supposed had really only been remedied recently, until Higii had snatched whatever friendship and camaraderie that they’d had and replaced it with Moondust...panicked and desperate and so awfully _human._

_”Please don’t leave me.”_

The doors to the lounge burst into splinters as Palpatine’s meticulously guarded mechanisms crumbled like synthfoil. Frantic to remedy a situation that would certainly spell his imprisonment, never mind the loss of his reputation and status...the Darkness that went before him was cloying; laced with a fine edge of desperation and paranoia. Obi-Wan rose to face him, and Anakin made to join him only to hiss as his entire side went numb; leaving him to scrabble uselessly at the armchair he’d so recently vacated. Panic suffused him as the dual hum of two lightsabers being drawn filled the room, the familiarity between this situation and their battle with Dooku achingly stark. He was stupidly useless; forced to watch a confrontation between two people he’d once cared about and respected. In a moment of terrible clarity, he acknowledged that the Temple did have some logic in preventing relationships; watching someone you loved go into battle was horrible.

Wrenching himself upright, Anakin yanked his saber from his belt and settled into a basic Shiem position...ignoring the distracted plea from his former Master that begged him to stay out of the way. Palpatine’s theatrics were gone, replaced instead by a grim sense of a means to an end, and he had absolutely no doubt that that this would be a fight to the death. He was not going to spare parts lying down. There was no banter this time, like there’d been with Dooku. Anakin had always suspected that Yoda’s former apprentice had never wanted to kill them. Despite his obvious place as a Sith...he was incredibly in control of his faculties. Instead of disregarding life, he valued it...even if he wanted to possess it rather than nurture it. Palpatine was none of those things...the entirety of his agenda was self-serving, and the intent behind his yellow-crimson gaze was black with irrevocable purpose.

The first passes were illusory; opponent testing opponent for prowess, red and green sparks creating an upspray of shimmering, searing heat as the two danced around each other. Palpatine was good with a saber, probably better than Obi-Wan, and Anakin acknowledged this with a sense of despair. Even with both of them in top form, engaged in combat together...they’d have had no guarantee of success. This was the Sith _Lord_ they’d been hunting for years upon end, chasing leads into the far corners of the Galaxy only to come up empty...and he’d been here right under their noses the whole time. Both of them had faced Sith apprentices, but this was entirely different; this was years upon years of skill and training of which they had no knowledge. He couldn’t even begin to wonder who Palpatine’s Master had been, but Anakin was fairly sure he was dead. Sith Lords didn’t like competition, what with Maul and Dooku having proven themselves to be both under-qualified and overconfident and Anakin well on his way to recruitment, he was fairly sure this was the man they’d been looking for.

Obi-Wan parried left and dodged right, rolling out under a vicious downward swing...a line five inches deep scoring the durasteel a deep glowing crimson. Their blades were a blur between them, like the rotary blades that powered the nuclear plants on the outskirts of the shipyards. Palpatine’s robes were a black shroud that seemed to encompass the entirety of Anakin’s vision whenever he moved; a painful contrast to the simplistic tan of his former Master’s garb...nondescript and full of grim focus. A flick of the wrist and pain bloomed across his psyche as Obi-Wan took a long but shallow hit to the forearm; one that was almost teasing in it’s causality. Palpatine’s eyes were mocking, his expression derisive and scornful.

_”You can’t win this Obi-Wan!”_ he screamed across the Bond.

_”I...can try.”_

The response was strained and distant, a testimony to how hard the older man was concentrating on keeping his ground. Obi-Wan had an incredible amount of stamina...but he wasn’t invincible. Anakin swore under his breath and cast around for an idea or an escape...an _opportunity._

The idea came to him with a startling clarity, and he wasted no time in thinking it over.

_”You have to lead him over here”_ he urged.

Obi-Wan’s concentration faltered, and it very nearly cost him his head.

_”Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t fight.”_

_”I can’t”_ Anakin agreed desperately. _”But I can still use the Force, and we have more than he does! Get him close to the window and feint.”_ He growled when the older man continued to hesitate. _”Trust me on this. I know I can do it.”_

The auburn-haired Master resisted for only a few moments more before relenting. Pivoting, he began a slow backwards retreat towards the giant picture window that looked out over Coruscant. Palpatine, assuming that his defense was out of weariness, pressed forward with an eagerness that seemed to seep from his very pores. Gritting his teeth, Anakin forced himself to collapse onto the floor, the groan of pain that left his lips not entirely fabricated as he rolled onto his side and watched their footwork. The moment of the feint came...Obi-Wan stumbled and Anakin reached into every corner of their Signature to push it outwards in a rush of breathless, vibrant green; feeling the Chancellor’s surprise as he was thrown sideways and into the window with enough force to level a battleship with its shields at 100%. That dark, dark saber came up, enraged and pulsing with vengeful intent; poised to run itself straight through Obi-Wan’s heart....

...And the entirety of the Jedi Council came crashing through what remained of the glass.

The Guard descended on them in an instant, willing to stay out of the way when the fight remained even-footed and similarly numbered but unable to shirk their duty in the face of so much force en masse. Someone grabbed Anakin’s shoulder and flattened him onto the floor as a bolt of blaster fire entered the space where his head had been moments before. He stayed still, breathing in the scent of synthetic carpeting before the body on top of him was yanked away, Obi-Wan having recovered from the stunt they’d pulled and taking up his customary place at his side. The older man was gripping the hilt of his saber, staring at Quinlan Vos with an expression of wary reticence, every muscle in his body poised to defend if necessary. Instead of attacking, the Kiffarian Master raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his eyes flickering between them with no small amount of apprehension.

“You need to get out of here” he said in low voice. “I know you didn’t kill Mace, most of the Council does as well, but the public won’t be so forgiving, and the Temple can’t save you from everything.” Rising, he ducked to avoid a vibroblade aimed at his head, lifting his saber to dispatch the member of the Guard with cool efficiency. “Anakin’s shuttle is waiting for you on the ground floor, we can hold them off, but not for long. There’ll be a cease-fire once Yoda’s message of Palpatine’s alliances gets to the Senate, and then you’ll be sitting ducks. You’re not members of the Order anymore, we can’t help you.” He hesitated, his expression drifting into the realms of uncertainty before settling on resolve. "For what it's worth...none of us know what Mace was doing in your hotel room" he muttered. "He wasn't acting on Council orders...and the day before he'd been acting really strange. In all honesty, he hadn't been himself for a long time..."

Anakin swallowed and nodded jerkily, scrambling to his feet and dragging Obi-Wan with him, turning to make a break for the doors while they were still open.

“Thank you” he said in a low voice.

Vos nodded, already departing to rejoin the battle.

“May the Force be with you.”

Looking back on their blind sprint to the ground floor in later days, Anakin would only remember it as a pain-riddled blur. They were confronted several times by members of the Senate Guard, and even Bail tried to stop them at one point, but they were moving too fast for anyone to really do anything about it. The plethora of staircases and elevators leading to the streets seemed unequivocally long and fraught with danger. Every shadow was an enemy, and every face they saw was a potential witness. Anakin felt Palpatine’s demise without really seeing it; and they would come to find out that he’d met his death at the end of Yoda’s lightsaber...without any sort of pomp and circumstance. He was dispatched as Higii had been dispatched; mercilessly and without regret, the black legacy he’d wound around himself dissipating into nothingness. A part of him was tempted to grieve for the ‘friend’ he’d lost...but in reality the Chancellor had never been a friend...he’d simply been a puppeteer, and no matter how much he wanted to tell himself that he’d only turned to such mechanisms in the recent past...he knew it wasn’t true.

A younger version of himself might have regretted that he’d been unable to exact some form of revenge. He’d been manipulated, played and deceived and it made him _angry_ but anger was an emotion that had caused him too much grief in the past. He let Obi-Wan drive the shuttle, preferring to sink into the co-pilot’s seat and descend into panic as Coruscant disappeared behind them. It wasn’t until they were parsecs away and sitting in the middle of deep space that Obi-Wan let the autopilot take control; standing and dragging Anakin away from the cockpit...into the cabin and down onto the bed where they collapsed in a pile of raw nerves and vibrating limbs.

The acknowledgment that they were safe and away from all of it took a long time to settle into Anakin’s mind. He hadn’t been physically involved in the stand-off, but he’d been constantly present in Obi-Wan’s psyche, and the residual drain left him tense and fidgety. By the time he’d gathered himself enough to sit up, his former Master had pulled a bottle of Ithorian Mist from who-knows-where and was pouring them each a generous shot from the dusty glasses the younger man kept in the hold for special occasions. Anakin took his without comment, knocking it back and gesturing for another as the shaking in his extremities subsided somewhat. They sat in silence for a while, each wrapped in his own thoughts as the terrible anxiety of the day slowly wrought itself some semblance of reality.

“I’m an idiot” Anakin muttered, dropping his glass and putting his head in his hands.

Strong, calloused fingers slid up the nape of his neck to tangle in his hair, their residual warmth draining his body of all semblance of strength.

“You didn’t know” Obi-Wan said gruffly, leaning back slightly as a head of blonde waves settled itself on his lap. “I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been looking for it.”

“Y’know, I’m really disgusted with myself right now” was the mumbled response.

“No one blames you” was the calm reply, and Anakin startled as he was pulled up near the head of the mattress so they lie side by side. Grey eyes were looking at him with a patience and affection he felt like he didn’t deserve, and he shivered at the unadulterated sincerity behind his words. “Listen to me, Ani.” He shivered as an arm drew them flush against each other, the subtle brush of stubble against his forehead achingly familiar. “Stop blaming yourself for everything the Universe throws in your path, it’s not going to make you happy. You can’t prevent everything.”

Their mouths met in a heated exchange as Anakin struggled to reconcile his thoughts, groaning as a hand slipped between his robes to slide down the small of back...down past the joining of his hips to circle against his entrance; palm open and shaking with need.

“I should’ve been able to prevent all this” he said breathlessly, baring his neck as Obi-Wan’s teeth grazed his pulse-point.

“You can’t” Obi-Wan murmured, rising up to press him flat against the pillows and settling himself in the niche between his legs. “I don’t love you because you’re the Chosen One, or because you’re the Hero With No Fear. I love you because I know you, and I know your heart...and your heart is _good_.”

“W-what- _mmm_ -what do we do now?”

The older man paused, caught in the middle of shrugging his cloak over his shoulder.

“We live” he said simply, then appeared to backtrack. “If that’s what you want.”

He was never going to recover from this overnight...it was going to be a process. And yet, when Obi-Wan looked at him like that...with his stormcloud eyes, and his ever-knowing expression...his soul felt like it was finally, _finally_ finding some semblance of peace. When Anakin smiled, it was with everything he knew he could give...and everything he might give in the future.

“Yeah, I want it” he said hoarsely, arching slightly as lithe hips ground against him. “I want you- _us_.”

Kissing Obi-Wan was better than anything Higii had ever given them...it was passion, serenity, acceptance, heartbreak, reconciliation and legacy rolled into heat of his tongue and the nuance of his breath. A thousands steps on the head of a pin...with strings that spanned for a thousand rotations of Coruscant Prime....perihelion and aphelion...yet here they were. And even if he could go back and change the nuances of the time-space continuum...he woudn’t. Every step he’d taken had molded him into who he was now, and who he would become. Another Sith would rise in the absence of what had been left behind...but they were no longer a part of it. And when a message came from Master Yoda thanking them, profusely, for their services; Anakin opted not to read it...preferring to go on Obi-Wan’s word alone. He could live without control...as long as he wasn’t enslaved or manipulated...and if the Galaxy wanted more puppets to hang on a spindle of expectations and dogma, they would need to look elsewhere. There was only them, and _now_ , and the Force...and even after they were gone the Force would remain.

Such is the way of continuity for those who accept the relentless, onward pace of eternity...and the mysterious, effervescent workings of the soul.

* * *

 

_“I still don’t know many things...but one thing I do know... is that between guilt and fear...I choose happiness.”_ -Fran from Fran Bow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Alright, so, I'm sure some of you are surprised to see this end here, but I have an excuse. I recently got off a medication that I've been taking for the past year and a half. said medication changes how you think, and as I was coming off it, (particularly in the last chapter), I started noticing a downslide in my writing quality I really don't know if it's just me being really, really nitpicky, but right now the quality of my narration makes me nauseous, and I need to seriously learn how too write without this stuff in my system before I take up any more serious projects. I may post a one-shot every once in a while in this fandom or in a different fandom. I am looking into Wolfstar to be honest, and I really love the dynamic. To say this has been disheartening would be an understatement, but I need to take a step back and examine things.
> 
> Okay, so on to Spindle Puppets. Some of you have been following my fics for a long time, and I really appreciate that. Your reviews make me the happiest person in the world, and I'm sorry I wasn't able to deliver to you as much as I wanted to with this fic. Addiction was a big undertone in this fic, and there are reasons for that that I'm not going to go into. I suspect the issue will come up again in different fics, as the reason behind it is around me on a daily basis, and doesn't seem capable of getting any better, but this was really healing for me...and the fact that all of you have taken this journey with me has been incredible. So, thank you, and I hope that you all enjoyed this as much as was physically possible. 
> 
> **Edit:** I wanted to address the fact that Obi-Wan and Anakin never were fully (as in penetrative) sexually intimate at the end of this fic. I have written what feels like an enormous amount of love scenes, and eventually your material runs dry and you can't formulate anything new without it sounding like something old. Also, it didn't feel right. I know I have said that many times, but because this story ended so abruptly I didn't want them fighting Palpatine, having at it in the depths of space, and then slapping an ending on it. It felt crude, and I really don't think they were ready. I gloss over the mental trauma in this fic, and I wish I'd put more emphasis on the damage Higii did to the mains. If I were to put it in a summary; Anakin and Obi-Wan would probably consent and attempt several times before it actually happened, simply because of their emotional dynamics, and because Anakin has a pretty rampant panic disorder that borders on PTSD. Obi-Wan is very unlikely to consent until they figure out their Bond more in any case. Sex-at the point that this story ended-was unrealistic. I may write a one-shot where it occurs, but I already owe As You Are, I Am and Under the Four Moons sequel one-shots, so it's third in queue. 
> 
> **R &R**  
> -M


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